thorns

Ramblings,

just ramblings, maybe.

Ramblings which weave and entwine the ramblings of others seemingly chaotic like the desperate ramblings of a climbing rose. A mess of thorns and buds, no end, no beginning, clinging to every crevice of the wall, trying to reach for the sun.

The sun,

We are all trying desperately to reach the sun.

Am I mad?

Maybe,

but,

at least I’m not bored,

or tired,

because that would be tragic.

Hopefully the rosethorn wall makes sense to you when you gaze it from a distance.

 

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