Someone define these words please
What I feel I’m not sure
A mixture of both? Maybe.
Pretence of love? Or hate altogether?
I don’t know what to call it
Once it was like a bed of white roses
How beautiful a sight.
And in the blink of an eye
It was there, a thorn in my beautifully primed garden
Tried to make it come off but it didn’t
So I ignored it.
But it kept on hurting me
Poking me until blood trickled down and stained my roses
Filled with raging anger I ripped it out
With a strength I never knew I possessed
I looked at my rose turned thorn and
Without a second glance threw it out
Exiled…because it didn’t deserve to be with the gentle ones
In the end I guess it was a love-hate relationship.
Written by Ejiro Ogunyemi
Paula Melissa xx