I think
the butterflies are dying today
They scratch at my windows
with their tissue paper wings
Screaming into my dreams
Today is the day, I think they say
But in the morning the glass is silent
And all I see left are
fragments of kaleidoscopes
no hopes
Only powder stains
remain.















Comments
no.. words..
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I don't like your tragic sighs
as if your god has passed you by well hey fool
that's your deception
your angels speak with jilted tongues
the serpent's tale has come undone you have no
strength to squander
The only comfort is the moving of the river
--
=christians
--
How sad, though I fear and hate butterflies.
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[link] <--Visit my SheezyArt
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