Thorns of a Feather
Immunity, true colors of the you in me,
fearing the departure, loving the torture
Hurt, pain, pulsating through each vein,
emotions stain the roses in my brain.
Tempted to run, do the un-done,
selfish, with no direction
The truth; weightless...
better a rose with thorns, than a soft stem
just a small identity trying to comprehend
Comprehension, how?
with so much tension, not to mention
all this time has been a lesson
Immunity, nothing more than the numbness of reality