#1 The making of a thorn

She was fragile enough,
To let her petals bleed.
A mindless little rose,
In a desert of thirsty travellers.

They stripped her of her color,
Shattered her roots to the core.
Myriad of travellers came by,
But none stayed by her side.

Her tenderness dissolved in thin air,
As her leaves began falling.
In place of a vibrant rose,
Life birthed a merciless thorn.

Not a stranger went by,
Who could deny her charms.
Nor could they resist the pain,
She’d inflict upon them.

Every man pricked his finger,
There was no mere escape.
The sight of blood trickling,
Had her immensely satisfied.




If feelings did not exist,
Would hearts have any meaning?
If there wasn’t pain to resist,
Would our hearts still be beating?

If nothing ever changed,
Would life make much sense?
If souls never had an end,
Would we ever repent?

If bodies never died,
Would we live forever?
If mere existence thrived,
Would anyone be remembered?

If there were only happy times,
Would we really care?
If there were no lies,
Would life even seem fair?



As my secrets grew,
They weighed me down.
There were not even few,
Who saw me drown.

My only outlet came,
Through a paper and pen.
Till poems became,
The secrets I tell.

Veiled with metaphors,
I can cry my heart out.
The feelings I had in store,
Now have a voice so loud.



If you had wings,
Would you let them destroy you?

Or would you rather fly,
Exploring skies unknown?

Don’t give up hope just because you don’t have wings. You don’t need them to fly. All you need is a heart brave enough to endure your differences and make them your strength.