A bloom that thrives alone But close beside, a sharp defense
The thorny guardians do commence
They offer pain, a warning sign
To those who reach for what's divine
Its thorns may wound, but do not kill
A rose born of hardship, love, and care
Holds it's beauty
With thorns embraced
A truth I've learned,
a somber, steady art
I may not be enough
for one heart's plea,
But that denies
no value in my soul,
Nor grants me less
than all I ought to be.
The worth within is mine,
a steady flame,
Though some may fail
to see its radiant gleam.
No hand should wound,
no spirit should be low,
No one deserves
to live a broken dream.
I give my best,
yet fall short
in their sight,
A fact I hold, no
longer does it sting.
For in that "not enough,"
I still remain,
A person whole,
a soul that lives and sings.
And those who truly saw,
with love's clear eye,
My past, my present,
as I am today,
For them, I am enough,
their truth resides,
A bond of worth
that time cannot betray.
They know the hurts,
the words they cast aside,
The promises they broke,
the vacant space.
They know the moment they
withdrew their care,
And left me wounded,
lost without a trace.
No need to plead,
no need to prove the pain,
They were the authors
of this bitter scene.
Their choice was made,
their actions plain to see,
A truth engraved,
where sorrow intervened.
โKaz
Art by me
Also true story
31/07/31 ๐