Shallow waters washing-
The deep scars of the past
With time running slow
And days in stealth flow.
Life is on twisted curves
With valleys below
Mountains on high
And scattered undulating plains.
The past dies slowly
Sometimes-
It refuses the hangman's axe
Delaying it's demise.
The tale ends before it starts
Of how scars haunts us-
Through memories and time
With dreams and nightmares.
A day comes when all that is left
Is the past we have to face
In the present, at this time
To stop its sting-
And silence it too.
Picture by Tama66 from Pixabay.