Getting Burnt Or the Loss of Innocence
The impulsive and wandering butterfly
was tempted by the candle’s flare
that burnt her wings
when she got close
and sent her falling through the air
She laid scorched up on the floor
her fragile wings would work no more
Tears ran from her swimming eyes
because her little wings were fried.
oh demon light
that I did seek
how you deceive
the brave and meek
who ought to know
a brilliant hallows
from the glare
of dirty tallows
Copyright © Anthony Crisafulli | Year Posted 2015
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