The Frost and the Thorn

Since the hour of my birth I have witnessed lives and seen change – but I have not changed.
My exalted pride and ego have been my own brothers throughout; comrades of my own creation, whom I look after as I would myself.
They shelter me from the cold, but not from the Frost. It breaks them down to pieces.

The Frost is bitter and cruel. Vestiges of warmth are extinguished like swatted flies;

But in the dreary abyss of my mind’s capacity,
Lies a Thorn embedded deep in my skull,
The Thorn that keeps me alive and in reality.
Its purpose is to be itself, and to harden me to the cold, dark Frost.

Shatter my frozen hopes and dreams, my guardian Thorn, let none pass your strictest of sieves.
Warn me of such.  
Keep me awake, when daggers fall at night; for to die unaware is to die in ignominy.

Like the wretched bull thrown forcibly into the pen, I, too, have been forced to develop my own methods of combat and threads of reason.
The ultimate objective - to cope.
Not meant to live, but merely to endure.

To use the Thorn to survive; by clinging onto it with bleeding hands to escape a worse fate.
What a wonderful world.