Pages in Mind
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
A beautiful, purple butterfly
hanging on a silver chain.
Never has it graced my neck
for despite it's beauty, it brings me pain.
Sometimes I hold it in my hand.
Feel its coolness on my skin.
But I cannot wear it round my neck
for fear of the anger that's within.
Sitting on my window sill.
Catching my eye like the sun.
Waiting for the day it will hang from my neck
when all of this lying is done.
March 26, 2015 at 2:08 AM
Many hidden emotions and meanings in this poem.
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