Thorns That Pierce My Bleeding Heart
A beautiful rose in my garden did grow
A flower once dear to my heart
Attempting to save from the weeds that destroy
I have striven to keep apart.
But razor sharp thorns from the steams that protrude
For the rose's protection from harm pierced into my flesh
To produce drops of blood that flow from my hands and my arm.
It seemed to appear that suffering rose
Struck out with a sharply honed knife,
Blindly mistaking the actions of love
As attempts for controlling its life.
The rose has now lost its once radiant glow
As it fades and is shrinking in size
Allowing the weeds to squeeze life from its form
As it slowly withers and dies.
The thorns that were pierceing those hands that attempted
The pain of the rose's to thwart
Have pierced and eternally left behind scars
On a damaged and still bleeding heart.
By: Michelle
Copyright © 1999-2001 Tisa_. All Rights Reserved
November 16, 2002
