Addictive the Butterfly

Addictive The Butterfly Stains and needles, an addiction shown, Eternal my pain, this addiction grown. In my blood, into this, and my veins, I'll spill it all, the admirable stains, See my hate, see my emotions, see my pain, You may learn, but I won't gain. I hate the hate, as would beget me, I fear these fears, shadowed enmity, In Reflectivity, I refuse to see, Poetically lived, released burdened me. Beckoned clouds beyond the hill, Lakes and rivers the attributed fill, Quietly here, quiet and still, Hush is the shadow, my assertive will. Outstretched wings, awaiting to fly, From cocoon emerges his butterfly, Beauty in darkness shadows the cry, Beauty to see the poisoned inside. Rendered towards, and the shadowing eye, Uselessly inclined against the fallen sigh, Longing for impunity is set aside, lightning crashes, oceans collide. Darkened dreams awaken in cries, Covered the sound and covered the eyes, Screams, the portrait incomplete it seems, Screams are the emotions caught inside, Irrelevant the meaning of the dream, Silence surrounds the sounding scream, Silence emotional turmoil hushed inside, Blooded, asphyxiation stifled the cry. The Punctured vein, the bloodied stain, The broken needle, unequivocal pain, The suppressive past, the unveilings mask, The unresolved, the broken past, Darkened, clouded rendered remain. Blood on the wall, blood in my veins, Victim of myself intuitively stains, Cold and Departed, Old and segregated, Unforgiving, hated, forgeted, My blood is my blood, The broken needle, and so remained A portrait poetically Stained. S F B