For some time my mind was sick
Lost myself in the thicket!
Briars more bramble than rosehip
Darkly dense, barbed and wicked
When tangled in a thicket
One’s self becomes conflicted
Whose hooks keep you restricted?
Whose brambles entwine constricted?
It took quite an effort to unpick
My Houdini escape to elicit
To understand, others where complicit
Their hawthorn so cruelly exquisite
Now less encumbered I sit
A rose in a garden well lit
I see my confusion was requisite
To keeping their barbs well hid
So please come take root for a bit
Though I ask, your brambles you snip
Grow with me, and of my journey sip
And know that, as roses will still prick
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