The hands of the clock pierced through me Akin to a sword sharp and trenchant Every passing hour brings me to malady My mind descends to naught each and every vanishing month.
They say antidote is the time Mending the affliction of memories pernicious But it's a venom, bane and crime Extending my heart's hole cause by reminisce infectious.
The time didn't stitch my wounded heart. It perhaps created a bigger hole.