I suppose time is a reminder of how older we get every day that passes by.
Stripped down naked while walking through the very aisle of a shattered life.
The only way we attain perfection is by realising our imperfections.
But our imperfections don't change if we don't bury them in the grave forever.

You can't judge a man based on his past in the present future, because taking a step of change is definitely the biggest decision.
But from the ticks on the clock we realise that we are always behind schedule, yet considering time itself is good but can be misinterpreted for lots of misfortunes.

The very day I died I laid helplessly in the grave, picking up all the bad and ugly I thought needed to change.
The very moment we recognize that we aren't alive to die, we know that death isn't the figure in the bigger picture.
So what happens when you're up again having a second chance in life? The very question most people can't leave a response.
Our flaws at first doesn't prove that we've lost, it's just a sign to remind us how much we've tried in our imperfections.


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