Time

It's Been eons but wounds heal slow when you're dwelling in the garden of pain and rose thorns keep tearing at cuts and scrapes that hurt more than memories of a shit load of shit It's been a while since knives cut but blood still flows and pain still ebbs at night alone and cold with no loving hugs or 'It's alright... I promise' But They always break them and can't keep anything Its been a long time since I slept soundly in the embrace of night without staring at cold ceilings and thinking about things that dont matter anymore..