Time moves forward with each ticking of the clock but I’m locked in place by this chain of thorns warped around my heart. They dig deeper with each beating of my heart. Slowly they tear more and more as time try’s to move me forward. Each link of the chain forged by happiness now each link tainted with thorns of pain.

In a forest, tucked away
hidden between padded ferns
and angered flowers,
whose roots grew wider
then the seas,
was a heart crossed
of all the thorns
she didn't need.

A wilderness heart

Wrapped in thorns

Tangled spikes, to keep the hurtful world at bay

You sought me out

And you cut them anyway

The smell of roses,
So sweet a scent.
Yet held in hand,
You insist on pricking my skin.

who can tell us
that clawing the thorns out of our chests
is wrong?

these roses aren't for you