Why are there never as many roses as thorns?
One flower,
a dozen c u t s,
A petal for every word,
And a thorn for the rest left
unsaid.
Why the plant with the snake that in fohideslds?
Just another corner
to turn,
So many
hidden paths
within
Too many ways to o p e n o u t
Before it's picked,
and dies.
You feed the flowers to the lambs,
You take the thorns and
grind
them
d
o
w
n
You
pull up
roots -
| | | | |
and all that's left,
a scar
within the earth.
You feed the flowers to the lambs,
And tw i ce as many thorns.
