we do what we must

for the wounds that never heal

I still feel the pain of death, the loss of my loved ones,
My bones still ache and my scars don't heal,
My mother still screams in my head as I lie awake and my father's grip is ever present on my throat.
I can recall in detail every punch that my siblings have landed, and every scratch or bite from everything else.
Time can fix most wounds,but what about those time doesn't heal?
Are the screams not just as piercing?
Are the nights not just as long?
Do my bones not throb with reminder?
Am I simply worth more now?
Do the ones I love feel the same?
Or is that all just a lie?
If the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then why are we all against time?