Thorn Poem by Ana Burnhep
Thorn
Was that wholesome feeling squandered without proper departure?
To realize that these feelings will amply grow,
only to know,
That the grievance of what slipped through,
Is the only part that will make due,
For a cactus thorn sticks,
Feels alive when it pricks,
But it's infectious sore remains aware,
To mock the lost,
Reliving the scars forever and ever more.
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8/6/2026 7:00:43 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
