My Escapade..

Thorns

I'm used to the tears
But not the depression

I'm used to the fire
But not the burn

I'm used to the clouds
But not the storm

I'm used to the knife
But not the hurt

But was it ever that easy
Was it ever not a surprise

That you loved something beautiful
And it didn't turn out as nice

Because a garden, however beautiful
It has its own flaws

And even the most beautiful rose
Has its blood-thirsty thorns