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The Prickle Bush
Life becomes more alluring than a rose,
and its petals are like milk and honey.
This is why people will superimpose
life over death, and look forwards sunny.
It is not until that a child pricks
himself on a thorn that it all just snaps.
The idea of a rose bush then clicks:
life happens just to be another trap.
In the prickle bush is a bag of cheats;
life is a prickle bush that will suppress.
Since victory has become obsolete,
to misery and pain we must all acquiesce.
A rose is uncharacteristic of
a prickle bush, but the thorns are of love.
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The following poem was inspired by natural landscape, but in this case, it was inspired by a recent trip to Santa Rosa Island. There, I had much time in solitude reflecting on my life and successes prior to the trip as well as the struggles along the way. It was then that I had noticed how far I had grown from my family, friends, and principles. This is one of the poems of a collection that summarizes my journey, a journey of which I can only hope you, as a reader, will embark with me. What I, myself, love about these poems are how relatable they are to deep readers of all ages. But even so, a poet can always only hope that his poetry will go the extra mile.