Prickly, as the thorns do grow
Around each stalk they sharply sow
Prick your finger & let it flow

From the deepest parts below
Your inner most sufferings you forego
You’ve lost all control; exposed

Climaxing of the words you so do write
Rhymes, lyrics & languages of love; delight
It’s a spectacular show to know; it feels right

A beauty is not to be kept or suffocated
Captured & killed free will; desecrated
Within a soul is where it was castrated

Twisting around each stalk & leaf
Thorns, giving others so much grief
Touch your finger if in disbelief

Prick to bleed; your curiosities need
Killed the cat by knowing all that
Brought it back dead as the basement rat

Bleeding onto the paper of your pain
Drawing a picture of disdain
Thorns to bleed your last drop

Don’t pick the beauty or it’ll stop