A flower, that what it was.
When I saw it I supposed,
it was too pretty to hold.
Mistaken I thought,
it will always be sought,
who would be willing to leave it alone?
When I got close I was told,
it was left to its own,
fearing its thorns.
I got closer and it talked,
“With sharper things I’ve being hurt.
My thorns are a protection for my soul.”
Bewildered I spoke
“I see no thorns.
The moonlight by your beauty was overthrown.
Hurting you who would ever hope?”
To my heart, I kept it close.
I was happy holding it for so long,
but it wasn’t its home.
She left me alone.
She showed me why I need my own thorns.