You, an open wound

You are walking around with an open wound, bleeding your heart out.

Everyone passing you by could see the pain written all over your face, as time went by it became your most prominent feature, the scar is too deep, one would think you were born with it. There is no antidote but time, so you give up, you lower your useless weapon, and you lay down in your lake of misery, waiting for time to work its magic, but as the water fills your lungs you feel the pain, but it is nothing compared to what got you there. 

 

Time is the worst pill to swallow, it rips you apart, burns your scars, and laughs in your face as you wait and wait, because time knows that you got no other hope but to cling to its freezing hands and beg for mercy, so you sink down to the bottom of the bleak lake as you wait, and you cry until you don’t feel your face, you weep and weep until you don’t feel your soul, and then the wind of time roars, it freezes the lake and numbs your mind, body, and soul, then the sun rises above, evaporating the water and drying you out. 

You stand up and just like that, the scars are gone.