Time

Time, to all wounds, is healer
They all think as one.
They're wrong, of course, for
Time is a demon.

It hides behind fabric,
A world we cannot see.
The curtain hides it,
We go obliviously.

Growing older and older,
Time gets its man.
It can afford to wait
Longer than you can.

It pulls you away here,
Rips you away from there.
Draws you from happiness
Into deep dark despair.

Your wounds it doesn't
Much care to heal.
But salting them up
It finds great appeal.

Time is not on your side.
Each step it takes, each stride
Is against you.
Your friends too.

Soon you're done.

Time has won.