A Sonnet of Sorrow
A jagged thorn upon a rose, dismayedI felt it ever gently slide within.
Familiar pain I've felt and will again
before the final scene of life is played.
Emotions good and bad outward arrayed,
good deeds against the black backdrop of sin.
I find myself longing for the day when
I see my deeds amongst heroes displayed
A healing I shall not myself begrudge,
I turn inward to myself and confess.
Attempting folds of skin renewed to be,
I leave it to Time to be the Grand Judge...
renew my struggle onward nonetheless,
I know I am alive when e'er I bleed
It seems that I would need some therapy
for I've become a walking travesty.
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