I keep a collection of butterfly wings
From butterflies who don't fly anymore
I don't kill them, I just pluck the body away
And pin the pretty things onto my corkboard.
I don't do it just because I like how they look
I like it because it's so immediate
One second the butterfly is pretty and free
The next it's a worm with nothing else to it.
I think it embodies people
And this is honestly all just a metaphor
But all I really wanted to say
Is that in a second a person can be done for.
No butterflies were harmed in the writing of this poem
I like my butterflies flying
And happy
And hopeful.
YOU ARE READING
Misty (a collection of my poetry) {{COMPLETE}}
PoetryA road trip of poetry, I guess. Care to come along? Highest rank: 267 in poetry Read my third poetry book, "hush." I have high hopes for it. Read my first poetry book, "where the bluebirds aren't." (Or don't, it's old and rather embarrassing). ⚠️...
