You have had too much hope

Inside your soul

And when you wake up

With blood streaming down

Your legs

And tears

Falling down your face

The first person you want to curl into

Is the one with thorns down their arms.

And you stare at the bloodstains

On the floor and the tear stains

On your pillow and think

"Gawd, you are my flower

And you are so beautiful,

But you cut through my mind

And my heart

And I cannot breathe

With so much blood

Pouring from my body.

And, Gawd, I love you,

But I am losing this battle

To a rose with too many thorns."

So you clean up your pillows

And scrub at the floor,

And pray that,

Someday,

These stains will wash off.