Don't you hate when the sting still resonates from the bitter past, lingering even longer than your worst nightmare. The sting loves burning, living, breathing inside of you penetrating where you seem most weak. Vivid, yet nowhere near lucid. The pin-point action, aiming towards the heart and mind. Thinking you put the past behind you, when all along it buried itself deeper by the day. With a short fuse and the flame ready to ignite, we are a ticking time bomb. The next breakdown unknown to the both of us, me and the pain. It's like turning around on a one way street; you're bound to get hit sooner or later. With every fall, we pick ourselves up dusting off our shoulders and bandaging our knees. With a cracked smile and invisible tears seeping through our pores, we go along with our day. And we wonder why we feel so empty, we have yet to feel.