Thorns

An angel can't fly

with defeathered wings.

This angel won't cry,

Nor will she sing.

Beaten and bruised

Tattered and worn.

As pretty as a Rose

But She's distorted by thorns.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741