The Flower And Its Thorn

I once had a flower,
That I couldn’t truly see.
I held tight to keep it close,
Yet it was out of reach.

As I got a quiet wound,
Which I couldn’t see;
I tried treating it so hard,
But it was never healed.

Blinded by its sweet smell,
I ignored the thorns it carried.
Now this agony made me see,
What I had been holding all along.