Thorns Upon a Wilted Vine

Thorns upon a wilted vine hidden within my flower bed Through and about they do twine From my flesh, the color red Hidden within my flower bed, my emotions do languor From my flesh, the color red weeps, yet I feel no anger My emotions do languor Though the ancient Willow tree weeps, yet I feel no anger No flowers do I see Though the ancient Willow tree, through and about they do twine No flowers do I see, thorns upon a wilted vine