​the thorn and the rose.



the rose blooms, on tender stems with jagged thorns.


unbeknownst to the flaming rose, the thorns offer a sheath of safety.


protecting the rose, uncaring of their visage, the thorns are silent sentinels.


if only the thorns of my life, were merely a cocoon of safety, shielding me from the storms of life.


if only I were enveloped by thorns, weather-beaten, yet buffered from strife.

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