In the garden of memories I tread,
Where shadows of time quietly spread,
The roses bloom with silent grace,
The thorn of the past, it leaves its trace.
They prick my heart, they tear my soul,
But in their pain, I find control.
Through the years that passed, I walk alone,
Beneath the weight of seeds once sown,
The fragrance of love, now long decayed,
The thorn of the past, it cannot be swayed.
Yet, I carry them with steady hands,
For in them, I understand.
The world spins fast, but I stand still,
Bound by the chains of my own will,
Each step forward, a step back in time,
The thorn of the past, it's the silent crime.
I feel the pull of my own past,
Yet I move forward, at last.
The thorns of past, they pierce so deep,
In the night when I'm meant to sleep,
They whisper to me, their voices clear,
The thorn of the past, it draws me near.
But I hold them close, like old friends,
For their pain never ends.
I chase the sun through endless skies,
But the past clings to my weary eyes,
It calls me back, to the days gone by,
The thorn of the past, it makes me cry.
The thorns of past, they still remain,
A reminder of every pain.
Each tear that falls, a memory lost,
Each memory, a never-ending cost,
The thorns of past, they never fade,
The thorn of the past, it's deeply laid.
They linger on, they never cease,
Until I find my inner peace.
In the silence of a broken heart,
The thorns of past tear me apart,
Yet still I stand, I do not break,
The thorn of the past, it's mine to take.
I carry on for my own sake,
The thorns of past, they shape my soul.
The world moves on, as I stay behind,
Trapped in memories I can't unwind,
The thorns of past, they pull me down,
The thorn of the past, it's my own crown.
But I rise up from the ground,
They whisper truths I can't ignore.
The past is a shadow I cannot flee,
It haunts me, but it also sets me free,
For in the thorns, I find my way,
The thorn of the past, it leads me to stay.
Each prick, each tear, a price to pay,
The thorns of past, they guide my path.
I dream of a future without these thorns,
A life where love no longer mourns,
But the past keeps calling, in whispers low,
The thorn of the past, it will not go.
They remind me of what I've lost,
And what it cost.
