Each one of us have our own thorns
Protecting us from the world
Some small, some sharp and prickly
Akin to a guard, a sentry.
Even though it's a cause for suffering
Its beauty is in its ugliness
Without thorns roses fall apart
For what is a hand without its fingers?
Sharp as a dagger, will make thou weep
Giveth one security, nursing from evil intentions
A wreath of thorns, to crown the crowning glory
An unseen watcher carrying its duty.
©️ Anjana Prasad
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