The Thorn

a poem by thenorm

The thorn twists and turns,
flays open the wound

Do you feel
Below the surface?
Do you see
The rush
The onslaught
Of blood, as it cascades
Like wildfire?

Strike the match,
Watch it burn.
Cauterize the wond.

The thorn
So sharp, so sweet -
Flays you open,
Like wildfire,
it envelopes you,
Cuts you deep.

Go on, strike the match,
Cauterize the wound.
Save us, one by one,
Save us all.

Go on
Strike the match.
Cauterize the wound.
The thorn still twists & turns