Ropes and roots

Every rose has its thorns,
every thought is a maze,
every feeling a wound.

Through the maze of pain a guy listens a voice, which says stop thinking and start feeling but though the bleeding slows it never stops because pain is unpredictable, it comes in waves sometimes acute, sometimes drowned in silence, it is not something you leave it's something you grow around.

We learn to heal the pain, feeding on memories, breaking boundaries where every layer holds a memory and every injury becomes a story.

Loss has roots, struggle tears and damage spreads like ropes around the soul so forgive me for being fragile, for leaving myself broken, for seeking heaven in a world unbroken because i think my body always remembers every harm for carrying this damage like a prayer, for struggling to release what still clings like a shadow to my ribs, like wraps my self-esteem in chains.