I know my thorns

Sometimes God wraps a gift in pain,

Puts a lesson in my enemy’s name.

I never asked for roses with thorns,

But maybe that’s how faith is born.

I’ve been living in this quiet place,

Where shadows dance and fill the space.

In the dark, the worst things grow,

But honesty’s the only way I’ll ever know.

Everybody’s got their lilies, they just hide their scars,

I’ve been staring at my broken parts.

Yeah, I’ve been thorn-conscious, grace-anxious,

Fighting battles in my head, it’s dangerous.

Maybe weakness makes me strong,

Maybe pain’s where I belong.

I keep focusing on what’s wrong,

And I miss the blessings all along.

Oh, these thorns—they hurt, but they heal,

Guess that’s how God makes it real.

Got regrets I wear like chains,

Memories tattooed with shame.

Every heartbeat, every breath,

Smells like sadness, tastes like death.

But maybe this thorn’s a guardrail sign,

Keeping me from something worse this time.

If I stop complaining, maybe I’ll see,

The thorn was never meant to punish me.

We all bleed different shades of grace,

I’m still learning to love my face.

Yeah, I’ve been thorn-conscious, grace-anxious,

Fighting battles in my head, it’s dangerous.

Maybe weakness makes me strong,

Maybe pain’s where I belong.

I keep focusing on what’s wrong,

And I miss the blessings all along.

Oh, these thorns—they hurt, but they heal,

Guess that’s how God makes it real.

When the bitterness burns my tongue,

And the memories weigh a ton,

Grace whispers, “Let it go, my child,

Every thorn’s been worth the while.”

Maybe pain’s a prayer in disguise,

Maybe tears are how I rise.

Thorn-conscious, grace-conscious,

Learning that the hurt’s not monstrous.

Every scar a holy song,

Every bruise means I belong.

Yeah, I’m done focusing on what’s wrong,

I can finally feel what’s right all along.

These thorns—they hurt, but they heal,

Guess that’s how God makes it real.

Sometimes the thorns are how we grow,

And grace—the only thing that makes it so.