The thorns of life are pricking me, and it’s ****** uncomfortable,
My mind a tangled garden of roses, and the stem is a story of harsh brambles,
Winding their way around my sanity, tearing at the fabric of serenity,
But I grasp them anyhow, for the scent of dreams is worth the pain.

Each jagged edge a reminder of existence, raw and unapologetic,
Yet in the blood and grit lies beauty, fierce and unfettered,
So I dance through this thorny maze, wild, unfaltering,
For it is the struggle that shapes me, moulds my courage, my soul.