There is a struggle in all of us,
Things we don't admit,
Akin to a collective curse,
Of which we all submit,

A destructive mass of thoughts,
Disguised with a smile,
Our internal turmoils fought,
Finding solace for a while,

The masks we wear get heavy,
held on by deceit,
We fancy ourselves sturdy,
But struggle on our feet,

Do not hold on to a dying rose,
Clutching thorns is what hurts us most.