A Thorn In a Rose
A thorn that needles in a rose
Is while it’s true we cleave as one
We also cleave apart.
No sooner do we struggle to
Share any meaning of our minds,
We say goodnight among the stars.
Our words and hands so purposeless,
Among a travesty of trees.
A thorn that nestles in a rose
Is while it’s true we cleave as one
We also cleave apart.
No sooner do we struggle to
The very knife quick cut of love,
We fall our separate ways.
Our arms and legs so purposeless
Among our sighs and smell of salt.
A thorn that nettles in a rose
Is while it’s true we cleave as one
We also cleave apart.
No sooner do we struggle to
Survive each other by alive,
At different times we die alone.
Our skin and eyes so purposeless
Not even see or to be seen.
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