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.