Painful thoughts like a thorn in my side; this rose only beautiful when torn away from its stem, free from the anguish of thorns when stripped of from which it blossomed-

Emotion:

Running in liquid form from my veins like angry red crayon scribbles on paper made by a small child just learning to express themselves.
These thoughts are the manifestation of my memories and memories create stains; stains so many that your entire being becomes discolored and faded, into near nonexistence.
No soap and water could wash away the misery that follows these memories. So bleach me! Bleach me until I've become blank again without the stains of when anguish ran from my veins.