~•~*~•~
Wreath of thorns and gold,
Tangled around my hair.
Tricks of light and its defeaning lustre,
Contrasting illusions to different beholders.
Those without a crown, see the power and pleasure,
Hear the hails and the glow of glory.
Those with one, hear the pain and pressures,
See the deaths and sacrifices, haunting the nightmares.
But only he, with a chaplet of roses,
Sees the truth behind the fragility and destruction.
The adorned crown, just like the rose, my love,
Doesn't pierce the wearer, it pierces the snatchers.
~•~*~•~
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Cottage Chronicles
PoetryLife's chronicles from love, sorrow, anger, guilt, shame, happiness buried in a poetic cipher. Would you like some words and wine, on wooden floorboards? ©️ Feronia Grey
