Stereotypical

Thorns // Dear Father

Memories are cruel

memories are lies

They look like vibrant, beautiful roses

but they are thorns

sharp thorns in my side

Nostalgia is a fucking liar

life was never as good as it was back then

because even then it wasn't that good

You, father, are one of my thorns

yours is particularly large

It is lodged in my heart

I cannot remove it, for fear of bleeding to death

You see

this is how much you damaged me

A vine sprouted from your thorn, causing others to grow

now my body is covered in (and trapped by) vine and thorns

I bleed from thousands of wounds that never heal

I am made of vines and thorns