Healing is a lie,

That everyone says comes with time.

In a torn pant leg,

You put patches or stitches, in line,

But the fabric,

Is never the same.

Grief is a feeling,

It will pass or grow numb.

But really it's not,

We'll always be able to feel it some.

Human's don't mend,

They are never the same.

Peace is a longing,

Every writhing soul wants to attain.

No matter how hard,

The attempts will always fail.

Agony cannot be silenced,

Within a mind that is weak and frail.

Our torn hearts,

Are never the same.