Thorns And Roses

A mind,- weary, unrested

Each hour brings about, - a wrinkle in time

Ticking away, as it's tocs,- to my internal clock

These hands move,- to pass the time

Drowning in rains,- as cloudy thoughts, fill my mind.

I tend,- to tend, to my garden often

My garden,- within.

Haunted by thoughts,- ghostly past, skeletons linger

Priceless,- this time I have

As am I,

-As well as my thoughts

Time I spent

Penned down

I had to write out,- a sight, in mind

Sought out,- fought

As a bud- sprout out

To blossom

In bloom

A mind,- weary

Restless.

"Every rose, has it's thorns"