They say time heals all wounds.
Scabs cover those seeping gaps of flesh.
They may heal the outside but what lies beneath squirms and rots and stagnates till the poisonous build up of puss oozes out, squeezing past those timely scabs, exposing the raw flesh still festering beneath all that well-being.
Time just healed the surface: the facade that made it more acceptable and bearable to look at. Scratch a little and see what escapes your scabby safety hatch.