Thorns

Words, like thorns, can easily prick and bleed.

Painful words,
you spoke in haste.
Ashes falling,
linger with a bitter taste.
You don't know me,
or who I am inside.
Always cutting me down,
careful to prick and bleed me.
Exposing my heart,
ripping into healing wounds,
You're as the winter,
harsh and cold,
Withering my vibrant bloom.