They say, every rose has its thorns,
I'm one of those few,
That has pricked a lot of fingers,
And hurt a lot of lives.
I pricked your finger,
On accident I swear,
Can you forgive me?
For causing you so much pain?
I'm wounded and weak,
A fallen soldier,
At the edge of defeat,
I can't take much more,
I'm on the edge.
Hold out your hand,
And stop my fall.
Save me and forgive me.
Cause without you,
I cannot stand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i'm the thorn, i'm the one who stabbed your heart i don't deserve your forgivness.