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Down the blue sky
I must bloom:
The rose on the thorn!
As beautiful as a rose is,
it has lots of thorns
So is life,
Very beautiful but it also gets rough
gracie Mar 22
i'm sorry for the
love notes
for the roses
blooming beneath your bedroom
window, for the lies
hidden under
dewy leaves

i'm sorry for the
thorn in your
pride, for coming to
the coffee shop
for spilling honey and
my heart
on your favorite sweater

i'm sorry for the
careless smiles
for wearing my
yellow dress to make
you stare, for thinking
you'd keep
a lovestruck
He  was the knight on the slender stalk of rose,
No one dared touch her beauty,
As petal by petal she opened her self gracefully,
His to admire and cherish.
Neither admirers nor bees and butterflies dare touch her,
For his ***** was worse than his wrath.
At last when every petal opened,
There she stood in sheer beauty,
A white rose,with a tinge of pink,
Lovingly kissed by the sunshine,
Her fragrance intoxicating.
Oh Rose! dear love,marry me,
For long have I waited for thee.
I am a thorn.
A *****.
You’ve mistaken me for the beautiful rose, that spreds solar flare petals.
You’ve tried to pick the stupendous flower, but you’re fingers sink into the sharp thorns.
I taste your metallic blood, and watch as I hurt you.
I’m a thorn.
I am no rose
I am no beauty
I am sharp
and I am bitter
Thorns Sep 27
My old Man

I know we’ll meet again
I hope he still remembers me
And that I love him so
But if he’s up there or down there
I hope he knows that he’s my dad no matter what
Even if all I know is a short piece of abbreviated name
I found the papers...It truly is upsetting what your parents lie to you about.
Sparkyxox Sep 25
Beauty flared from petals of blood.
Hypnotising passionate love.
Blushing with heat fiery.
Beauty deceiving, darkness swallow.
Thorns sharp, deep scars.
Prickling with betrayal.
Howling with pain.
Revenge. Fury.
Roses are known for its beauty, but it's thorns are sharp. Beauty can be deceiving.
Esfoni Sep 19
Gardens differ
              One from another
                              One’s full of flowers
                                       **** with thorns, the other
M Solav Sep 7
Oh it's all hanging threads,
Hanging ligaments with drops of red:
Vines without poles - flesh without bones.

Events roll out in scarlatine flashes:
Eyes in crowd flap down their eyelashes
And in silence the suspense grows strong;

The bricks are set, the façade is over,
But from within, the house still lacks a structure:
One penetrates rooms without walls.

A memory from the depth is brought up,
A storyline used to link so many dispersed dots:
Leaves are flying free as the childhood tree rots...

Oh it's all hanging threads
Hanging sources, hanging roots:
Scars over the sun revolving in loops.

And the conduit narrows down,
Leaks a single bolt of light to glow:
An empty room as throne and crown

And a thorn, pain escaping death,
A frown of estrangement in the face
Of all that's known - what's most unknown.

Spectators stare deceptively
While promises of relief are spared;
They too are suspended in the air...

Oh it's all hanging threads
Hanging loose, hanging dead;
Waiting for the artisan to tie the noose.
Written in October 2017.
aih Aug 18
Do not crave me for the petals bloomed around into a beautiful bright red spread.
Do not crave me for the leaves decorated around my body in a dance with the light breeze.
Crave me for the thorns around every part of me for that is where my truth lies, where all of me is real and vulnerable.
Definitely written after Anne Bronte: “he who dares not grasp the thorn should never crave a rose.” My all time favorite quote.
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