Thorn My heart is bleeding From the prick of a thorn. My brain is

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Thorn My heart is bleeding From the prick of a thorn. My brain is Powered By Docstoc
					          Thorn


My heart is bleeding

From the prick of a thorn.

My brain is madness

Trying to hold on.

The beauty of a lovely rose

Will sometimes prick you

Unless you know

How to hang on.

Sometimes we must

Let go

Lest the pain

Never subside

And we bleed to death.

                                 Renata Dawidowicz

                              Published in: “The Poet”

                              On page 363- Autumn 1982

				
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