Reason is not necessary in certain situations
lack of it is an art in itself,
to create and marvel at your creation
as it breathes devastation for all you love
in that lies the true art.
Your poisoned words are blasphemy
at a funeral for my creation you should
show some respect and quieten for once.
Which is the perfect blend, will forever remain
shrouded in mystery, and perhaps
it is meant to be so. In the end there only is
the shadow that engulfs you and me,
as we plunge deeper and deeper into the abyss
of imperfection, of defects, prototypes,
discarded ideas howling for redemption.
I contradict all popular opinion
and say life is a bed of roses.
Some admire the intoxicating aroma,
or the delicate, petite petals.
Some others can feel the thousand thorns
piercing their skin and leaving gaping holes
where once was perfection.

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4 thoughts on “The Thorns

      1. That I know for sure. I meant it as a superlative form of some compliment. You leave me spell bound all the time and I’m running out of words to describe the beauty of your poetry any longer. (Did that make any sense?)

        Liked by 1 person

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