The Bleeding Thorn

Golden sunlight rarely shone Upon that solitary thorn; Red velvet petals are all gone, They wilted as soon as they were born. Black storm clouds gathered o’erhead And a brooding ambiance did pervade Contributing to a sense of dread As leaves turned a putrid, sickly shade. The hurt, the pain, each purple bruise Was observed by that sable spike; The young girl’s life full of abuse Which was tossed into a muddy dyke. Along that secluded roadside A scarlet stain spoils the ground - Where once stood a rose with pride Now an ugly, bleeding thorn is found.