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Victoria Queen
Poems
Aug 2014
Enemy
Time does not heal,
but pours salt in my wounds.
In the seconds and the minutes,
the hours in each day, every day,
it burns a hole through my heart.
Time seems to disappear and drag,
all at once;
And no matter if I keep track
or forget the amount passed,
the hurt remains.
Time is the torturer,
and it never softens its grip.
Written by
Victoria Queen
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Victoria Queen
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