Thorns of the Rose

Love is a flower. Despite the flower's flawless and priceless beauty, it will heartlessly pierce you with its thorns until it someday withers and fades away into the very earth it grew from.

Pain is love and love is pain;

a flower sprouting from disdain.

Decisions we make with our hearts

can seldom leave but ugly marks.

Sometimes I question my pursuits,

for deep within lie wilted roots;

infatuations of my past,

though planted deep, could never last.

and all of this to what avail?

It only makes my spirit frail.

A shameful truth, a truthful shame;

that pain is love, I love the pain.

 

Pain is love and love is pain;

loneliness its dark refrain.

One day, the sweet song of a lark;

the next, a beast that tears apart.

A work of art so convalute’;

its meanings always a dispute.

Emotions, wicked winds that lash;

as I set sail they break my mast.

A hike along a dead end trail;

so many choose to tear the veil.

Once achieved, works to estrange;

no soul’s above love or it’s pain.