People move on.
People move on and get along with new moments, vanish like a magician like nothing happened. There can be no pretend to move on. No.
Few wait,
wait a little in the hope,
few who were tormented to view their world falling apart,
A few gave up but could not move on.
How does it come as living with a scar?
There is no scar. Scars heal, don't they?
I will say, "Die everyday with memories "
Memories, coming as some sort of sharp knife. Again and again.
What kind of memories break the ribs and push like a dagger through the heart?
Aren't memories made to cherish and sooth?
-@brewingblogging
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