This Damn Thorn Poem by Chris Taylor

A perfect plan detoured
An objective thwarted
My strength of foundation chipped
Like the salt soaked rain cracks concrete
Motivation slowly ebbs

My inner circle begins to notice the weakness in my armour
Little places for arrows to find its home
A brave face plastered on for the souls around me
Few see the real inner struggle
Nights of pain and swelling

I pull a thorn, another emerges
If I could cut you, I would twist my crysknife deep
I would stand against you and take your water
But you are unseen
You remove little bits of life while I sleep

The crows gather and speak ill of me
Their words alight on the branches of half-truths
The daily grind is more arduous and cruel
Each day a small victory
Each moment lived is bone weary

Before this life-war, I gave to so many
Where are you; you takers of me
Why do you hide in my time of need
Why do your words of comfort fall short of my ears
Still I am not taken over by hate

Oh thorn, I will not lie down
You will have to take from my fist my chosen word
I will punch, claw, kick, elbow and finally bite
Until my teeth are broken and can find no purchase
I will not let you steal what you have not earned

My fingers will pluck your pricks from my flesh
Each day, each moment I will place one more step in front of another
I will run my race
Maybe not to win; but to finish, yes to finish
You will never have my treasure
And you efforts will be expelled


I will make my muscles rigid to push your pain from my tissue to fall from me forever