Scars and thorns
Must have hurt less,
We were worse to ourselves
Than them.
Even the withered rose
must have felt at ease looking at us.
'Fools' , it must have called us;
' I lived and died with my thorns,
they were my protection
But you two, you pricked each other
Till nothing more was left
for your heart to bleed.
You were each other's poison.'
Monday, September 3, 2018
Rose cursed us
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