It seems as if the grains of sand have passed,
so slowly through the hour glass,
yet here we are.
So far from our perfect moment in time.
Through passing seasons, of anger and pain,
of all questions that still remain,
the one that grips my soul the tightest, i ask.
If time truly heals all wounds,
why does my heart still bleed.......
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
It seems as if the grains of sand have passed,
so slowly through the hour glass,
yet here we are.
So far from our perfect moment in time.
Through passing seasons, of anger and pain,
of all questions that still remain,
the one that grips my soul the tightest, i ask.
If time truly heals all wounds,
why does my heart still bleed.......
Request permission to use this poem