Under My Sofa

Thorns

They say a rose is made dangerous by thorns
The sharp surprise of skin being torn
The twisted sense of needing to mourn
The loss of delicate beauty to cutting brawn
But it lies more deep than the cutting dawn
Or more shallow
The velvety petals are the bow to the thorn's arrow
Red frills ornamenting the edges seem to flow
Disorienting, fluidly four-dimensional, so hard to follow
That the flower we gaze at adoringly is secretly as bitter-cold as snow
After all, the thorns would be coated in dust
If there weren't for humanity's desire to place our trust
It the silky petals that seem to drip more blood
Than a simple thorn could ever draw
And it's worse because it's rich, red and raw
Just like the petals without a flaw
That entice our eyes and hands that claw
To split the stem of sweetness incarnate
Only to realise far too late
That the thorns finish off what's laid out on a plate
By the flimsy flowers that act as the bait

***

Ugh, I became that one person at a school event who takes about thirty little sandwich/pancake things and puts them in a Tupperware box. Honestly, the boredom of being lectured for hours on stuff about uni I already know just makes me feel like I deserve a reward.

At least my friends were with me all the way, so we could be those people together.

And I didn't have to waste food on cooking dinner since I just gave them to my siblings.

Honestly, I feel no regret by this point, just a kind of faint disapproval at my own life choices.

No one else was gonna eat 'em anyway, so if you learn anything from today let it be that stealing food from social gatherings is a perfectly reasonable action to take.

Take those peanut puffs with no regrets!

(Unless your allergic to peanuts... Your body's a temple kids.)

Alex xxx