Thorns
Each prick left by the unsaintly thorn reminds me,
coasts me, into believing that maybe who I am is
brought out by the mistakes in my past, the lies I
hid behind, the dreams I shattered out of fear.
Each prick left by the unsaintly thorn reminds me
that I am human, that I make errors, that I live with
the consequences of my actions living for today and
not tomorrow’s satisfaction. But who am I without these
pricks? I am no one. For maybe it’s not the mistakes that make me
me but rather the lesson learned from each.
