Crusted ink

again and again i try to separate the good days from the bad that we
had. and all you do is separating you and me. this takes more than i
expected. it seems like the downfall of the world. seen it come.
deedless years went on. i arrested myself. put my life into this personal
prison and torture this defenseless soul again. i tried so many times.
i tried it twenty-four-seven. but time seems not to be my friend. time
seems to give me some more stitches. time kills and so does distance.
what the fuck have i become.