Time is not a healer… it just eats…
the emotion… which you once went through.
And then excretes all your memories…
layer by layer to thicken your skin.

Tears do not wash away your guilt…
they just clean your fake conscience.
So you don’t choke to your verbal vomit…
making the very air you breathe thin.

Faith is not the strength you find in others…
it’s the weak crutch you use to run your race.
And blaming it when it breaks…
looking for another… with cold eyes and grin.

Death is not the ultimate truth…
truth is the life you lead in fear of death.
With thick skin, thin air and weak crutch…
loosing the war… though every battle you win.