My virtue

This my first poem in this community. I am hoping for critiques.

The thorn that I have inside, 

Is making me Comatose,

The thorn is invading my nerves,

Not like weeds but like Holly.

Don't you believe my tropes?

Well do you want me to strike my rose like molly?

There is sudden change in my body,

My heart beats are now poppy.

It's sometimes like trumpet,

Which is off in melody.

I feel like I am a pendulum.

Is that the venom?

 

Do you care about me?

No, you have your own problem homey.

I don't care about you too.

Because I am dying of my own vagary.

I am dying hard to fulfill my reverie. 

The reverie to create this world of better-living.

Author's Note

Please find my mistakes.
What thing you like the most?