Unpoured

  1,2,3… 4,5,6… 7,8,9,10… You can say it again.

  How would i know it’s time? Do i get to choose what date it comes? Or perhaps the year you’d prefer? Or tell it to come at a particular hour? Can i?

  The pain of losing a loved one I can share in your pain. But it will only last for a minute Oh, This Pain hits differently Differently when it becomes blood.

  Time heals, Healing not of the thought But of the sting it brings to heart. A stale sting.

A lot makes people lost. Lost in blank thoughts, Like breathing with no air. An inception of entropy, Just like living without self.