What if the thorns were flowers once?
Devoid of feelings and succulent dreams
Withered reluctantly to guard the flowers
What if our dreams experience same fate?
A boundary of existence adorned with thorns
Instead of guarding, they puncture aspirations
Do thorns remind of turbulent times?
The neglect or fate of dreary transformation
What if dreams continue to be neglected?
A ruthless desire to absorb all emotions
What if such thorns remind us of dreams?
Even the spine troubles the back
With numerous stabs to remind of neglect