You have ten minutes to cry, eight minutes to whine, six to scream, four to wipe your tears, two to smile.
You have ten minutes to be weary, eight minutes to be unstable, six to pull yourself together, four to let go, two to smile.
You have ten minutes to hate them, eight to regret, six to mourn, four to smile, two to forgive.
It’s orthodox and maddening, but the time we have is short and limited. It takes one or two seconds to fall apart, minutes to pretend and a lifetime to heal.
Screaming at the top of your lungs, drowning on promises that are empty and words that mean less, it’s a wonder we even survive.
Breathe.
Exist.
Hearts and souls ripped out, crushed, stamped to death. It takes seconds to fall apart, minutes to pretend, lifetime to heal.
You have ten minutes to cry, eight to unstable, six to reflect, four to wipe your tears, two to smile,
One to forgive.