They say time can heal,
even the most grievous wounds.
But I find that misleading,
metaphorical *******, don’t you?
Because the implication of this,
at least when it’s been spoken to me,
is that you just need to wait,
and then one day you’re pain free.
The implication’s much scarier,
when you contemplate,
because time’s stealing your memories,
and erasing the slate.
Time doesn’t heal all,
because some wounds are to deep.
Some are filled up with poison,
that continuously seep.
The in-between,
when you’re cut and then well.
Can be absolutely,
unbearable hell.
What if there’s no closure,
and the wound opens again?
How does time heal that?
Tell me that, my friend.
So, please forgive me,
but I’ll keep my memories.
They may fester, or scar,
they may cause insanity.
Because the simple truth is,
that memories are all that there is,
and I’d rather go insane,
than forget one I’d miss.
So ya, I’m ok,
but not really, ya know.
Because the poison runs deep,
and my wounds fester slow.
