A Rose Amongst The Tares

An arrow tipped in poison
pierces an innocent heart.
A potion of deceit and unfaithfulness
eroding emotions start.

Tears of hurt and denial
quietly fall in the night.
By the day a raging storm of bitter tears
rains down into pools of spite.

It's not wrong when one laments,
but we err if it dwells long.
Our love ones around us may come disheartened,
hearing our self-pitied song.

We ought to be like children,
they forgive so easily.
Not a shred of ire they hold in their hearts,
we should be like them, so free.

A truly innocent heart
is a resilient one.
Like a red rose growing tall amongst the tares
reaching out towards the sun.

If your heart is forgiving,
like that of a child's I'm told,
when entwined with the rose's perseverance,
you'll have a heart made of Gold...