“The thorn you painted me to be,
Gave rise to me carving my pain and grief into your side,
An overlooked petal crushed beneath the weight of thee,
You called me soft whilst my heart swelled a weeping tide.
As I, a mere fragile bloom, broken beneath your gaze,
With every tear imbued with the story cried,
Branded as melodramatic lost in sorrow's maze,
My imbued suffering within the shadows did abide.
Did you not see the storms within my eyes?
The tempest roaring in a childs plea,
A symphony of sorrowed and silenced sighs,
A heart that bled with tender misery.
Your careless brush did mar my overflowing grace,
And wove a tale of anguish in its now cursed wake,
For in your world, no solace could I trace,
My whispered woes and echoes were too soon to break.
You act as if you know people and what's hidden within their soul,
The depths of longing, of love, and aching a special role,
I hope you felt the thorns you planted as you stole,
The blooms of joy from gardens that others did make whole.”
-aubs
May 26, 2024
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