Do all good things come to an end?

This has been on my mind, for quite sometime

How we are wasting away our life, in the prime

Sheilding away the pain from the past

hoping that, it’s intensity shant last

 

with a pint of pain, are those awesome memories

those happy days, now just plain stories

but sealing away the pint took away what was good

we thought we did right, but were misunderstood

 

Why do we keep it all sealed in a mental closet?

Why do we want to let go and forget?

Doesnt survival from those gruelling times imply

that we can’t just outlive , but as well get by?

 

The harder i shut the door, the stronger the seal

The more the poison of pain, shifted thro’ my veins

the more i felt safe, the more i was vulnerable

the more i ran away, the further sucked into the spiral

 

Like the thorn and the flower thrive as one

so must pain and  the joys long gone

We must break past the rut of pretend

and stop wondering, whether good things come to an end 🙂