One of many

One scar upon my hand

I have plenty

I cast my fear upon the wind

someone save me

This is who I am

A thorn from a rose would understand

The sorrow I feel

To be connected in something so beautiful

Ever striving to be perfect

Only to be found without appeal

Perhaps if I had been a strong child

I would live with this shame

Perhaps I would see beauty

Instead of this pain

One tear for many

We've washed upon the sand

The scars of many

I bear upon my hand

I, like the thorn

I know the cry of the damned

When I see the roses weeping

It is I who understands