Ego

thistle balls

‘Tis a weed in the garden

Do nothing to make it grow

Some think it’s just a flower

Daring where it shouldn’t go

Through many will multiply

And choke the others dry

Some, worse are hurtful

Prick your fingers till you cry

Just to show how incessant

cursed ground, set apart, they are

I plucked out a whole garden full

here, you see my scars.

 

 

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