A thorn in the heart, pricking like a pin.
Hope it isn’t a blood sucking scorpion.
A splash of dark colors in the head,
Is life this dark? Or is it my illusion?
Heart twisting around, there are wrinkles in its core.
Not sure of its state. Flowing it certainly isn’t.
Vapor like feather light, it certainly isn’t.
Rather a sinking box of lead it is inside, sinking till caught by the sea weed.
The fall in broken, But what can melt it?
What can extract it from the depths? I will reach the answer.
There is still that thorn, It stings like a dragon’s thrashing.
How do I free the shackles of the past? How do I reach me?
On the box of lead,The sea weed sprinkles the fragrance of hope
There lies a shivery mermaid stuck beneath it, boxed down by the lead.
The thorn takes gets it all today, all the attention that the rose ever got.
Yet, It escapes every clutch and every pull.
It hampers my run, not letting me breathe easy.
It reminds me of its existence,
There is a thorn in the heart, it pricks at every rise and fall of my breath.