Grieving for A Thorn

 Dear Grief,

The thorn on my side is gone, 

But my side still bleeds.

Removing it was easy.

A swift pull took care of it.

Throwing it away was hard. 

The nuisance was comfort

for the lonely. 

Endearing though it may be,

detrimental it was.

The alcohol burns.

It's a quick fix.

While time does its job. 

The more I lose

the more godly I feel.

With no repose,

I pray to you dear Grief.