Thorned Rose

Thorned Rose

She gave me a thorned rose
that left me with permanent holes
I hoped its red pedals would hold true
but it was its thorns that shown through
I nurtured it from a bud and held it precious
only to discover its nature was malicious
when in bloom it was my happiness
when its thorns shown through my happy left
when in bloom it was beautiful
through its thorns it was cold and cruel
its thorns punctured more than just a vein
they caused so much more than simple pain
for so long she kept them concealed
and they dug deep once revealed
they tore through to my very soul
that’s where it really took its toll
leaving me a fraction of my former whole
she left a pain that will never die only dull
she left me with permanent holes
when she placed in my hand a thorned rose

This is old. I didn’t want to do the cliché Throwback Thursday or Way Back Wednesday. When I was on the radio, sometimes I would play old songs. When I did I used to say, “This is a blast from the past for your ass.” So, I’m going with that. This one is a blast from the past for your ass.

I don’t remember what exactly inspired this poem. I made some tweaks to it before posting because I didn’t like it as much as I used to. I wrote it at work whilst working at the worst job I’ve ever had. It just came to me, and I wrote it while no one was looking and e-mailed it to myself. (Sometimes I like to get an e-mail that’s not about how small my penis is.)

This is also one of three poems my friend talked me into submitting to a local county fair. I don’t remember in which place this one came, but I won the top three spots.

My friend showed this to my grandmother (I don’t usually show people things I’ve written, at least not until it’s copyrighted. What do you have there, grandma? A book of poetry. Interesting.), and she said something like, “I didn’t know he could write such beautiful things.” So, if you don’t like this, you can take it up with my grandmother.

Interestingly enough ‘thorned’ is not a word used by actual human people. Only teddy bears, rabid dogs, and I say ‘thorned’. Actually, I don’t say it, I just wrote it. Maybe I should have used the word thorny, but that kind of brings on a sadomasochist image. “I’m so horny I need a thorn shoved in my…” I’m not sure where that’s going, but I hope it’s not in me.

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