Like a seed of a thorny bush of blood red roses
planted inside a fertile heart.
No, like a blinding shot through the head
like a an unbearable migraine.
No, like a finger being slammed in a door
reduced to a crushed and bloody pulp.
No, like a tumour that spreads like a plague
invading every crevice of being.
Or like a needle driven into flesh
under the nail.
And for this pain, there is no remedy but time.
Tis yet another one of my weak attempts at poetry... I beg forgiveness.
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