I held onto the thorns long after the petals had wilted. I squeezed until the thing I loved hurt me, because if I let go, the barbs would be bloody and I would be scarred and it would all have been for nothing.
Self-portrait
I held onto the thorns long after the petals had wilted. I squeezed until the thing I loved hurt me, because if I let go, the barbs would be bloody and I would be scarred and it would all have been for nothing.
Self-portrait