To love is to risk
This I know well
But did I truly know
Just what struggles I’d be unable to quell?

A story of old
A warning on the precipice of uncertainty
A danger of which to warn the young
A music note too feared to be strung

How was I to know that the thorns would scratch at my throat
That the carnations dipped in crimson would scatter my floor?

My fingertips are stained
My insides are wounded
My heart has been yanked and shattered
My lungs have become torn and tattered

Blood ridden flowers litter my floor
My sheets have been stained and mangled and more

I struggle to decide
If I bear regret or compliance
My emotions flow with the tide
And my tears paint my face as I cry

If only you knew what I have endured
And yet soon I will rest though I’ve yet to be cured

An enigma of sorts my life has turned out to be
But soon, not only I, but my secrets will be free