The Thorn

Barbed wire on the fence

Will slow people down

Keep them out of the complex you built

Where there are walls and doors

That no one understands

Thorns on the darkest roses

Will cut peoples' hands

As they reach for a piece of your soul

Dripping blood on the petals

When they tear away

Knives on the shelves

Will slice peoples' hearts

Given to you on a sparkling platter

Like a present to appease

Your angry mind

Liquor in the cabinet

Will make people bearable

When they decide they can't stop talking

Rapidly about themselves

Without another care

But the thorns and the rum

The wire and the blades

Aren't the things that keep me away

The shadow in your heart

Is dark like mine

The resilience in your blood

Boils like mine

The trust in your eyes

Is shielded like mine

We were not built to love

Or hope or dream

As much as we might try

We were made to endure