Butterflies, Roses and Thorns

Butterflies,
wings dusted with unspoken promises,
flitting over a landscape
etched with pain.

Self harm scars,
pale constellations mapping a turbulent sky,
a silent testament to battles fought
within the fragile fortress of the soul.
Lines that whisper stories the lips
dare not utter,
a language of anguish
understood only by those who bear
similar wounds.

Rose,
a velvet bloom unfurling
in defiance of the harsh ground,
petals soft as a sigh,
a vibrant promise of beauty
emerging from the ashes.
A fragile beacon
in the dim landscape of hurt.

Thorns,
guardians of the rose,
sharp reminders of vulnerability,
a protective armor
against a world that wounds.
Each prick a small sting,
a mirror reflecting
the deeper pain held within.

Butterflies dance a delicate ballet
over the scarred canvas,
a fleeting distraction from the
thorns that pierce,
a whispered hope for healing,
a reminder that even in the midst
of pain, beauty can still take flight.

The rose unfolds,
its fragrance a sweet counterpoint
to the bitter scent of regret,
a silent promise that scars can fade,
that new growth is possible,
that even after the darkest winter,
spring will eventually return.

The thorns remain,
a constant reminder of the past,
but also a symbol of resilience,
a testament to the strength
it takes to survive,
to bloom in spite of the pain,
to wear the scars like badges
of honor.

Reviews

[Ash]

OMG ASHE this is absolutely amazing I totally agree with you on this poem Keep up the good work and hopefully one day you can get all your poem's published for the real world

[Ashe]

Thank you so much!