Every thorn has a story,
That no one wants to hear.
But he was more than eager,
To get even a glimpse of it.He was willing to prick,
His finger over and over again.
He would bleed for her,
Till death came by her hands.She was by no means,
Moved initially.
But his constant fight,
Brought something to life.She started seeing things,
She had forgotten long ago.
The fragrance of roses,
Began to feel like home.But she was still captive,
In a dungeon of guilt.
And he stayed adamant,
To never let her leave.With time,
She forgave her crimes.
For she saw no hope,
In letting go of the rope.He dragged her above,
From beneath the ground.
With the first ray of sunshine,
She was born anew.Though she was still a thorn,
Prickly and headstrong.
For all the good reasons,
She couldn’t be a tender rose.She found love,
Despite what she had become.
She had a come a long way,
From being held down ‘gainst her wishes.
-Nameera.
