…walking down the paths of my heart…
i find no pause, in the stony garden there….
nor roses scenting the air…
but…
…there are thorns..
grown close and thick..
..and my skin knows their sharp caress..
…they bloom…swelled and fruitful ….
from the tears in my soul.
..watered always by my essence leaking from wounds-
…old and new….
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