Butterflies~
scarred and stained,
breathe within a glass cocoon
spun with black-widow silk and smoke,
waving weary wings
in the midst of nothingness,
c h a i n e d with bleeding petals
from a garden of grief,
caught in gossamer greed,
that feeds insidious seeds
to this chrysalis heart,
weeping in seething silence,
as the world cares not to heed
tunes of trauma,
ricocheting through
flutes of patience,
oblivious to...
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