https://img.leopedia.io/DQmc5hbv5dvNAMq4CfViaHcTYnkyzFzcmcgzWQhzxgJ8Pon/1000041695.jpg 
[source](https://pixabay.com/photos/nature-branch-spike-thorn-tree-6902433/)

<i>
I am made of pricking, 
I am filled with it,
I have become thorny, hard
I have lost myself in the love of the flower
No one should be able to touch it
No petal should be hurt
If you try to touch it, I will prick you
I will make you feel a sharp sensation

My dry body,
I am full of compassion and sacrifice
Every drop is filled with pain
My existence is made of it
Often the fingertips overflowing in the thumb
Or in your soft palm

Those drops of blood, are my story
From childhood to youth passed like this
I feel happy in my heart when the flowers bloom
How much I cry when they wither
What do you know, O heartless people
This is love, in which I burn
I have become so scorched by the heat
I am tired of the pain

I have seen so many flowers blooming and smelling
Then they fall and scatter
Fighting the storm of happiness and sorrow
I am now completely broken,
I am lost in the solitude
I have been lost in the love of flowers!
</i>

Thank you so much for reading. Have a great day 😊🙏  @vikbuddy

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