Thorn

The thorn that hurts the deepest

One of its kind, I'm sure

To be stuck in one place, helpless

A thorn I myself picked

Tears you apart, and still

The thorn that hurts the deepest

A pain that cannot be scratched

Is not self-inflicted

But fate brought to you, as a reminder

Of what you once had

Holding on to photographs

Of moments once cherished and loved

Whispers of days, forever lost

The thorn that hurts the deepest

Is the thorn still attached to the dying rose.