For some time I’d thought about the most
Indefatigable of personalities,
But had not come to any terms with
Anything in any contemplation of the same.

I thought, perhaps, I’d change my name.
Would that have made the day a little brighter?
Would my heart have been made a little lighter?

No, I left my name the same,
‘Twouldn’t make a difference.

They say a rose is still a rose by any other name,
But no-one mentioned anything about the thorns.
A thorn is a thorn is a thorn,
A sharp pointed outgrowth that lurks beneath the rose
(I think it’s found away into my side).
It’s still a thorn, by any other name.