Yes

you have all the reasons to go away, trun me down and even throw me into hell.
you're so entitled to.
i'm beggin, justt begging, no matter how ridiculous i appear to be.

'The Mistery of Pain'
Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realsm contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.

'Hope'

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warms.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crum of me.




--Emily Dickinson