I Think They Died
Butterflies don't fly anymore when I think about the future of us
Joined puzzle pieces are more of a fear than want or desire
These once peaceful thoughts have been burned alive in a fire of thoughts of suffocating smoke
Butterflies, they flutter, tease me with anxiety and, oh, how I want them dead and out of my stomach
I'm sorry if this is painfully specific
I know it does not feel terrific
Like a flu to the heart or the match under the paper, the tension rises like the butterflies'nd I can't keep up the illusion.
Like tea and diffusion, it has dissipated or died in a sea of doubt and self hatred, so don't think it yourself
For it has always been I thats kills the butterfly
YOU ARE READING
The Aggravated Mind
PoezjaEmbracing a new pattern or rhythm of life. Taking on new ways of thinking and washing away the old. A sweet love of verse and song. My heart will go on. *Author's note* Note will be random insight to the poems of this book.
