Sonnet: Adieu

Thorns of roses are often forgotten.

Chasing after, blinded by their strong scent,

midst the red petals and blood you got in,

You did not even know how to lament.

Why purest hearts have to suffer the most?

Thick callous around yours may not be seen.

Some pretty bunches later have come close,

but you seek to avoid the unforeseen.

Hurt yet not broken, you have come this far,

building before the throne of God above.

Please do not be afraid to show your scar

for it is your medal to be proud of.

It is time to bid a cold, blunt adieu

to echos of the thorns that make you blue.