End of story

butterfly

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You’re a story that’s already been told

and done. Nothing else here. You are

a moth that didn’t have space to unfold

What would your conclusion have been had you found

some open air to stretch and yawn,

some solid ground?

Let me weave your stories with tender

shaking fingers as you breathe your last

and uninteresting breaths, as finally

you abandon all endeavor and

allow yourself to be

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