Tuesday, December 21, 2010

A Heart of Thorns

I count the hours,
Until the last thorn is removed,
I count the abuse,
I no longer have to prove.

I sit alone,
And I wonder, why?
And while remembering the past,
I try not to cry.

Four boys are born,
But one was to die,
Why not me?
I pray to the sky.

A mother and father,
With much love concealed,
Gave me none,
I was left unfulfilled.

Each day that I strive,
To remove a thorn,
I’m worn and torn.

I’m counting the hours,
For these thorns to free me,
And the moment,
That my heart is finally free,
I will let it be, I will let it be.

By:  Carolyn L. Miller
February 2003

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