It is familiar, as the prick of a thorn,
the reddest rose calls me reborn.
Lost in webs, weaved a lifetime through,
Deception bared to what's painful and true.
My peace lies in the ebony found,
light hidden all around.
To feel the thorn, eases my control,
If denied my pain, it breaks my soul.
I dance contently with the gore,
it soothes until I want more.
I'll dance my life the way I choose,
where they can't hurt me or abuse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem