Can my wounds be clothed
By the sands of time?
My dirt be cleansed
By its flowing stream?
My crimes forgotten
By its weathered hand?

Then tell me—
Which amount of days
Can mend my lies?
Which amount of weeks
Can dry their cries?
Which amount of years
Can let the pain die?

Please…
Tell me if time
Can truly do this.

Yes, I lost the old me.
Yes, I'm the only one who can get it back.
But I'm getting tired, you see...
I just wish I had someone
I could call mine.
Not to give,
But to remind,
And help me find
The old me.

If I had less time
Could you or would you
Love me for the rest of it

If I met you in the afterlife
Could you or would you
Even try to find me

And deep down I know
You could but wouldn't
But I have to ask what if

I told the stars my pain, but they blinked in disbelief
As if the sky could not conceive a suffering so far beneath
Still their presence offerd a quiet relief