Thorns of past hurts, a prickly, bitter crown,
Love, with a soft touch, gently tears them down.
No vengeful rage, no prideful, sharp reply,
But empathy's balm, a soothing lullaby.

Forgiveness blooms, a vine with a gentle hold,
Mending the wounds, where stories yet unfold.
Understanding whispers, soft and warm,
Dissolving anger, weathering the storm.

Transformed by love, our hearts begin to heal,
No bitter thrones remain, just love, revealed.