15 little thorns in the line

Brought out the worst 

In us – a part unseen. 

And now I stand,

In a room full of roses 

And the very sight of them is 

Pricking my veins. 

A weed can live for long in a

Garden – but it’s gone now, 

So trembling from the cold stares 

I breathe. 

You don’t understand, 

What I’d kill to be a rose or 

For you to be 

My garden.


(If you would like to read more such poetry, subscribe to the blog by going to the homepage and scrolling to the very end and then clicking the subscribe button. This way you will never miss an update. Cheers 🙂 ) 


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