Night of Oblivion

I try to forget, 
but it is too painful to let go. 
I, I try, try, so I try. 

Why is it so hard to let go?
The pain lingers as a limb's itch; 
itches, itches, so much aching. 

What is the purpose of pain?
Denial of the night whose oblivion 
presents itself as the weakening 
of the shell of identity. 

Bursting, bursting, bursting,
I am able to let go.