Look around me. The green and reds, and above me, the blue and reds. I never knew anyone to look at me. I end up being but a pain, getting under their skin. I never intend it to be the way it is, but I can’t help but hurt others, it’s just the way I was made. I am but a thorn.
thorns are a way of protection. you’ll find them on roses and on people. they usually hurt the thing that is reaching towards them. they cause pain, sometimes on accident sometimes intentional.
olyvia
the spiky thorns don’t hurt much but thorny words split my heart and ravage deep grieve , of whom i am unaware
That day, when I woke up to the right side of the bed empty, and my arm wrapped around your pillow (instead of your waist), you had left me a sticky note in the kitchen: “Gone to run errands. Be back soon.” There was no “Love, Greg”, or an “xoxo” like we sometimes used to do when we wrote sticky notes. Perhaps you just forgot to write it. Perhaps there was not enough room to write it on the tiny little sticky note, with your big loopy writing.
But than again, I suppose I should have come to expect that. It had been awhile since we wrote each other sticky notes.
You left it on the counter, beside the vase of white roses. We used to leave them on the fridge, because that is the first thing to see when one of us walked in the kitchen. Under the wilting roses, it was hidden. I didn’t notice it at first. Perhaps you didn’t want me to notice. Perhaps this was because you were hoping that I wouldn’t see it, because you thought you would be back before I read the note, therefore deeming it pointless.
But, than again, I suppose I shouldn’t lie to myself. Because I really knew that you didn’t care whether I saw the note or not.
You weren’t back soon. In fact, you never came back at all. I sat there all day, at the table under the beaming sun, peeling the thorns off the now dead roses you gave me. My fingers bled, and the roses became speckled in crimson. Perhaps I hoped that every thorn I tore off, was one less way for you to hurt me. Perhaps I thought that every drop of blood meant that I was brave. Perhaps, that I wasn’t afraid of anything.
But as I tore the last thorn from its stem, I knew I was wrong. You had broken me. And I would never ever be brave again.
Thorns in the flesh cause rifts in the brain. It’s been too long, Lord. I’ve waited for so long. I’ve put it off and I’ve pushed it down. The only thing I haven’t done is truly given up. I’m waiting for surrender to be saved.
Holly Morris
The thorns in my foot slow my gait. The underbrush is another one of my enemies-I can feel her breathing underfoot and I know I can’t trust even the ground I walk on.
The two dogs were playing and running around the yard. They start to sniff around the rose bushes. They look at each other and then go under the bush. They start to squeal and run away. They were scared and hit the bushes branches and there were thorns all over their fir and ears and paws.
j.renee
so thorns are like really spiky and that like a lions claws rawr haha! anyway they live on plants like bushes(like a thorn bush) or maybe roses. they look sweet and nice but really they can stab you and hurt you… just like boys. watch out!
lou jane
I’m in a bedraggled forest of thorns. Every which way I move they draw blood. Doesn’t matter what I do. Can’t avoid them. Every movement results in pain. And yet if I stand still, I’ll never get through them. Hunkered down on the mossy undergrowth, I’ll have to keep waking up to the same pain every day, over and over again, no escape, my heart bleeding silently. While the castle I’ve kept in my mind for so long, my heart, fades further and further out of view. Until I start to believe it’s not there anymore. And if I fail to believe in it, it won’t be. If I lose my last ounce of belief, then the darkness will swoop in and all the remaining light will be gone. And the sorcerer will have won.
Pointy, and hurtful thorns. They grow with roses. Such an ugly thorn grown with beautiful roses.
Cindy Lapointe
Thorns remind me of the Scarlet Letter and the thorny rose bush outside the prison door. They also impact my life on a daily basis 7 months out of the year when I am pruning my rose bushes, and bringing roses inside to enjoy! They are a necessary evil but something I don’t think about often. M
Megan
Oh you prickly little pear prickles. How sharp beith thy tongues and pointy thine beak? Whence from which you came to poke, prod and pick? Oh heavens, for the beauty of the sting.
bill
they stick in your jeans and in your side. they hurt to remove, but when you remove them, you feel better shortly afterwards. every rose has some of these as they say, so take the good with the bad and just live with a few thorns in your sole.
jackdrolet
prick yourself,
not thinking about what you’re doing.
blinded by the beauty,
by the scent
and the thoughts of what
great and lovely things
might be in store.
prick yourself,
my dear.
because
when you want
something bad enough,
you might realize
it comes at
a painful
price.
My favorite flower, the thistle, has thorns. Roses have thorns. Thorns are nature’s way to protect beautiful things.
kateg
There are too many thorns in my side, all self inflicted. Not that I can’t give good reason for them being there – not that I can’t explain and justify for days why I deserve those thorns. But in truth, why bother? Why not just remove them?
Thorns in my side, literally, breaching my skin and scraping my ribcage. I’m a shaking mass of rattling breath and sharp points. I’m broken underneath and collapsed in all the wrong places. I’m a walking junkyard.
This is a six-word split case of pneumonia. And I couldn’t care less. As far as things of the world go, [read: PROBLEMS], simple items of this instance are to be ignored. Now, on the other hand, say if there’s a lion… with thorns in its paws… you should re-evaluate your situation in life because obviously no one thinks it’s gonna be worth anything in the long run.
the sharp prick of thorns pierced through her heart. She couldn’t believe this. She had seemed like the most wonderful and gorgeous human being when they first met, making her laugh and dance and run through the streets with happiness. Those were the good days, when she truly believed they could go all the way. But now she lay broken and upset. I guess all roses have their thorns.
the last time i feel into the thorn bush was the day that my mother slapped me. she said it wasn’t out of anger, but in no way would it, could it, should it be any differently. shes my mother i know she loves me but it hurt it hurt everywhere. i remember that my feet hurt that day. i decided to go for a run and kept running until they no longer hurt, and when i stopped to rest I collapsed into a thorn bush
jill
The thorns of tempestuousness try tepid temperaments.
And it’s really amusing how you stare at a rose, admire it’s beauty and at the same time, think about how it could easily hurt someone. Not by a lot, but still, all the same. Cliche, yes, but what do we all really think about when we see a rose? The smell, the beauty and always, always, the thorns.
Ekilow
some people think of thorns on a rose and wonder, why are those there? they hurt us when we pick that lovely rose, or thistle, or blackberry, we should develop one without..but why, it is perfect the way it is.. there is a variety of rose that is COVERED in thorns..and it is BEAUTIFUL..I can’t even remember what color the rose it, but the amount of thorns covering the stem is so overwhelming, that it is truly beautiful to me. so I accept the thorns on the rose, because that is how it was born, created, made, so I too accept my own thorns, because they make me who I am, perfect, the way I was created.
Shannon R
Thorns.
The thorns on a rose can really hurt someone. They are sharp and prickly. I guess Perhaps that is why they are cut off already when you buy them. Are there stores that sell them for times you actually want someone to get pricked? A different message yes.
Roses whether real are metaphorical. Along with the beauty comes the thorns. The yin and the yang of life.
Mel Richardson
I really really really hate thorns I want to make all the thorns in the world just blow up.
Bmanning
I’m digging you out of the thorns; I want you up where I am, by the water and grass and sunshine. A place of tranquility. Take my hand, we’ll do this together. One step at a time.
laughalot
I can’t see. My eyes are gone – torn out in the fall from the tower. All I could remember was tears, long, golden hair, the smell of virgin sex, and then falling, falling. Now all I have is darkness, and rage at the witch who did this to me. My sword is not blind.
They dig like thumbtacks
Through my freshly washed socks
Prickle into my veins
Like tentacles of an evil unseen octopus
I seize up like I’m having a fit
They stick me with tubes in a hospital bed
They say every rose has its thorns
But I’m about to wilt
ellie griffith
The little ant smells the fragrance from afar
It’s a floral smell, light and sweet
This fragrance is emitted from a garden of roses
Their magnetizing aura bring the ant closer
But danger lurks ahead
What he doesn’t know
Is that the thorns are there
To keep the weak ones away
The ones who are worth it
Will climb to the top
And enjoy the roses forever
T is the time that you told me I was like my Mama (Oh no, you di’int!)
H is for the harem that you kept
O is your oscillating, unpredictable emotions
R is the ridiculous amount of snoring while you slept
N is for a crusty booger consistently flapping from your nose
and S is too much sloppy, selfish sex
Nothing but thorns in my sides, you bloody Punk.
I’m finally filing you as my boyfriend-ex.
they were everywhere, tearing into her skin as she struggled forward, always pushing. She was so close, she could almost see the rough, worn stone walls of the tower before her. She had been working towards this for what felt like her entire life, and here she was, just a wall of thorns between her and the woman that she had come to save.
Ever since she was a young girl, she had heard the stories, been told of her destiny; to save the princess trapped in the endless sleep, hidden away in the castle of the faraway kingdom. She was the only one that could break her free of the death-like imprisonment and unite their lands, save their families.
Thorns. They often come with roses. They often come with life in general. Currently, I am experiencing many thorns. My goal is to climb to the rose that I know is waiting out there for me somewhere. Life continues to surprise me. Who knows? Someday I just may be able to forget all these thorns.
Bossy Betty
The thorns were stuck in my leg. I should have known this was going to happen. Who else would something like this happen to? Jake? Dustin? Jennifer? Nope, only me. It’s like the universe is out to get me. The thorns came out of their arms and legs, but not mine. Of course, it just so happens that the thorns stuck in my limbs curved upon entry, and would be even more excruciatingly painful if I were to take them out, rather than just leave them in.
they were everywhere, tearing into her skin as she struggled forward, always pushing. She was so close, she could almost see the rough, worn stone walls of the tower before her. She had been working towards this for what felt like her entire life, and here she was, just a wall of thorns between her and the woman that she had come to save.
Look around me. The green and reds, and above me, the blue and reds. I never knew anyone to look at me. I end up being but a pain, getting under their skin. I never intend it to be the way it is, but I can’t help but hurt others, it’s just the way I was made. I am but a thorn.
thorns are a way of protection. you’ll find them on roses and on people. they usually hurt the thing that is reaching towards them. they cause pain, sometimes on accident sometimes intentional.
the spiky thorns don’t hurt much but thorny words split my heart and ravage deep grieve , of whom i am unaware
That day, when I woke up to the right side of the bed empty, and my arm wrapped around your pillow (instead of your waist), you had left me a sticky note in the kitchen: “Gone to run errands. Be back soon.” There was no “Love, Greg”, or an “xoxo” like we sometimes used to do when we wrote sticky notes. Perhaps you just forgot to write it. Perhaps there was not enough room to write it on the tiny little sticky note, with your big loopy writing.
But than again, I suppose I should have come to expect that. It had been awhile since we wrote each other sticky notes.
You left it on the counter, beside the vase of white roses. We used to leave them on the fridge, because that is the first thing to see when one of us walked in the kitchen. Under the wilting roses, it was hidden. I didn’t notice it at first. Perhaps you didn’t want me to notice. Perhaps this was because you were hoping that I wouldn’t see it, because you thought you would be back before I read the note, therefore deeming it pointless.
But, than again, I suppose I shouldn’t lie to myself. Because I really knew that you didn’t care whether I saw the note or not.
You weren’t back soon. In fact, you never came back at all. I sat there all day, at the table under the beaming sun, peeling the thorns off the now dead roses you gave me. My fingers bled, and the roses became speckled in crimson. Perhaps I hoped that every thorn I tore off, was one less way for you to hurt me. Perhaps I thought that every drop of blood meant that I was brave. Perhaps, that I wasn’t afraid of anything.
But as I tore the last thorn from its stem, I knew I was wrong. You had broken me. And I would never ever be brave again.
Thorns in the flesh cause rifts in the brain. It’s been too long, Lord. I’ve waited for so long. I’ve put it off and I’ve pushed it down. The only thing I haven’t done is truly given up. I’m waiting for surrender to be saved.
The thorns in my foot slow my gait. The underbrush is another one of my enemies-I can feel her breathing underfoot and I know I can’t trust even the ground I walk on.
The two dogs were playing and running around the yard. They start to sniff around the rose bushes. They look at each other and then go under the bush. They start to squeal and run away. They were scared and hit the bushes branches and there were thorns all over their fir and ears and paws.
so thorns are like really spiky and that like a lions claws rawr haha! anyway they live on plants like bushes(like a thorn bush) or maybe roses. they look sweet and nice but really they can stab you and hurt you… just like boys. watch out!
I’m in a bedraggled forest of thorns. Every which way I move they draw blood. Doesn’t matter what I do. Can’t avoid them. Every movement results in pain. And yet if I stand still, I’ll never get through them. Hunkered down on the mossy undergrowth, I’ll have to keep waking up to the same pain every day, over and over again, no escape, my heart bleeding silently. While the castle I’ve kept in my mind for so long, my heart, fades further and further out of view. Until I start to believe it’s not there anymore. And if I fail to believe in it, it won’t be. If I lose my last ounce of belief, then the darkness will swoop in and all the remaining light will be gone. And the sorcerer will have won.
Pointy, and hurtful thorns. They grow with roses. Such an ugly thorn grown with beautiful roses.
Thorns remind me of the Scarlet Letter and the thorny rose bush outside the prison door. They also impact my life on a daily basis 7 months out of the year when I am pruning my rose bushes, and bringing roses inside to enjoy! They are a necessary evil but something I don’t think about often. M
Oh you prickly little pear prickles. How sharp beith thy tongues and pointy thine beak? Whence from which you came to poke, prod and pick? Oh heavens, for the beauty of the sting.
they stick in your jeans and in your side. they hurt to remove, but when you remove them, you feel better shortly afterwards. every rose has some of these as they say, so take the good with the bad and just live with a few thorns in your sole.
prick yourself,
not thinking about what you’re doing.
blinded by the beauty,
by the scent
and the thoughts of what
great and lovely things
might be in store.
prick yourself,
my dear.
because
when you want
something bad enough,
you might realize
it comes at
a painful
price.
My favorite flower, the thistle, has thorns. Roses have thorns. Thorns are nature’s way to protect beautiful things.
There are too many thorns in my side, all self inflicted. Not that I can’t give good reason for them being there – not that I can’t explain and justify for days why I deserve those thorns. But in truth, why bother? Why not just remove them?
Thorns in my side, literally, breaching my skin and scraping my ribcage. I’m a shaking mass of rattling breath and sharp points. I’m broken underneath and collapsed in all the wrong places. I’m a walking junkyard.
thorns in my side oh how they sting how they burn… what is a world without out a thorn… a boring one.
This is a six-word split case of pneumonia. And I couldn’t care less. As far as things of the world go, [read: PROBLEMS], simple items of this instance are to be ignored. Now, on the other hand, say if there’s a lion… with thorns in its paws… you should re-evaluate your situation in life because obviously no one thinks it’s gonna be worth anything in the long run.
the sharp prick of thorns pierced through her heart. She couldn’t believe this. She had seemed like the most wonderful and gorgeous human being when they first met, making her laugh and dance and run through the streets with happiness. Those were the good days, when she truly believed they could go all the way. But now she lay broken and upset. I guess all roses have their thorns.
the last time i feel into the thorn bush was the day that my mother slapped me. she said it wasn’t out of anger, but in no way would it, could it, should it be any differently. shes my mother i know she loves me but it hurt it hurt everywhere. i remember that my feet hurt that day. i decided to go for a run and kept running until they no longer hurt, and when i stopped to rest I collapsed into a thorn bush
The thorns of tempestuousness try tepid temperaments.
And it’s really amusing how you stare at a rose, admire it’s beauty and at the same time, think about how it could easily hurt someone. Not by a lot, but still, all the same. Cliche, yes, but what do we all really think about when we see a rose? The smell, the beauty and always, always, the thorns.
some people think of thorns on a rose and wonder, why are those there? they hurt us when we pick that lovely rose, or thistle, or blackberry, we should develop one without..but why, it is perfect the way it is.. there is a variety of rose that is COVERED in thorns..and it is BEAUTIFUL..I can’t even remember what color the rose it, but the amount of thorns covering the stem is so overwhelming, that it is truly beautiful to me. so I accept the thorns on the rose, because that is how it was born, created, made, so I too accept my own thorns, because they make me who I am, perfect, the way I was created.
Thorns.
The thorns on a rose can really hurt someone. They are sharp and prickly. I guess Perhaps that is why they are cut off already when you buy them. Are there stores that sell them for times you actually want someone to get pricked? A different message yes.
They are very prickly and can hurt you and put holes in your body and make blood come out but just a tiny bit.
Although it had a sweet face and pleasing aroma. Below the rose, there are always thorns.
Roses whether real are metaphorical. Along with the beauty comes the thorns. The yin and the yang of life.
I really really really hate thorns I want to make all the thorns in the world just blow up.
I’m digging you out of the thorns; I want you up where I am, by the water and grass and sunshine. A place of tranquility. Take my hand, we’ll do this together. One step at a time.
I can’t see. My eyes are gone – torn out in the fall from the tower. All I could remember was tears, long, golden hair, the smell of virgin sex, and then falling, falling. Now all I have is darkness, and rage at the witch who did this to me. My sword is not blind.
They dig like thumbtacks
Through my freshly washed socks
Prickle into my veins
Like tentacles of an evil unseen octopus
I seize up like I’m having a fit
They stick me with tubes in a hospital bed
They say every rose has its thorns
But I’m about to wilt
The little ant smells the fragrance from afar
It’s a floral smell, light and sweet
This fragrance is emitted from a garden of roses
Their magnetizing aura bring the ant closer
But danger lurks ahead
What he doesn’t know
Is that the thorns are there
To keep the weak ones away
The ones who are worth it
Will climb to the top
And enjoy the roses forever
The thorns really were quite piercing. They pierced Andrew’s shoes and stabbed his feet as he walked. Why were they putting him under this torture?
His hands reached out to me with all the malice of a bush of thorns, his intent written on his face as clearly as words written in a book.
T is the time that you told me I was like my Mama (Oh no, you di’int!)
H is for the harem that you kept
O is your oscillating, unpredictable emotions
R is the ridiculous amount of snoring while you slept
N is for a crusty booger consistently flapping from your nose
and S is too much sloppy, selfish sex
Nothing but thorns in my sides, you bloody Punk.
I’m finally filing you as my boyfriend-ex.
they were everywhere, tearing into her skin as she struggled forward, always pushing. She was so close, she could almost see the rough, worn stone walls of the tower before her. She had been working towards this for what felt like her entire life, and here she was, just a wall of thorns between her and the woman that she had come to save.
Ever since she was a young girl, she had heard the stories, been told of her destiny; to save the princess trapped in the endless sleep, hidden away in the castle of the faraway kingdom. She was the only one that could break her free of the death-like imprisonment and unite their lands, save their families.
Thorns. They often come with roses. They often come with life in general. Currently, I am experiencing many thorns. My goal is to climb to the rose that I know is waiting out there for me somewhere. Life continues to surprise me. Who knows? Someday I just may be able to forget all these thorns.
The thorns were stuck in my leg. I should have known this was going to happen. Who else would something like this happen to? Jake? Dustin? Jennifer? Nope, only me. It’s like the universe is out to get me. The thorns came out of their arms and legs, but not mine. Of course, it just so happens that the thorns stuck in my limbs curved upon entry, and would be even more excruciatingly painful if I were to take them out, rather than just leave them in.
they were everywhere, tearing into her skin as she struggled forward, always pushing. She was so close, she could almost see the rough, worn stone walls of the tower before her. She had been working towards this for what felt like her entire life, and here she was, just a wall of thorns between her and the woman that she had come to save.