Pricked by a Thistle
Committed to struggle, the endpoint unknown,
Look to the past and see how you’ve grown.
A feeling comes through temptation’s finger;
Causing thoughts that rise, but never linger.
Awake again, regarding order, countless few
Would blossom here and know just what to do.
Deconstructing motivation parts thoughts deep,
Pricked by a thistle, effortlessly fall asleep.
Crossed by thoughts not known in any order;
Painting lines deep and thick, on the border.