Time heals no wounds
But a few.
The clock ticks by
Each time pulsing
Behind the raw scar of yesterday.
Oh where does bliss lie?
Perhaps impenetrable by
The syringes of my future
Blowing flesh away from that
Which hasn't yet healed...
Forgive me.
For I am nothing but a traitor,
Immaturity defines me at my peak
Synonymous to the beast of your denials:
Majestic, menacing...
Cold breath issuing from its dastardly lungs
Heaving trials and meaningless philosophies
Forward with every steady of its breath.
In again, out again,
You're nothing but a routine.
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