I’m a rose, i’ve grown up in thorns;
it stunt my growth…I am reborn.
A never ending cycle…still a baby…I mourn.
The pain, the wounds…lasted many years long.
I need to grow roots, deep within…to mature.
It’s like i’ll always be this age, until I find the open door.
Abused as a child, humiliated for a while,
Captivated and captured in this cycle of denial.
It’s like a gust of wind blowing on my pain.
The wounds are open…my past in vain.
I can see the doors open: A nightmare I blame.
I must behold ‘em shut…so my life regains.
An open vine, cut to the brim;
An open vine, dead to the stem:
Like a never ending sorrow that internally wins.
My eyes shut to the doors…my heart dismissed.
For it takes the power of love…to heal the hopeless.
Will you be the one there…waiting to open?
But untill that day comes…my heart will always be broken.