I sure wish you’d
come looking for me
crawling through a hangover
of bleak misanthropy
alone in my thoughts
there with no relief
just drown in the bottle
of my hate and my grief
too short of a window
to jump or to climb
a pain burns in my heart
that I’ve buried inside
that box where it’s kept
walls rotting apart
no light to be seen
only black, vivid dark
where once blue skies sang
now I only see gray
the present a gift
I’ve felt long thrown away
tiny and trivial
now nothing of note
just that blip and the speck
a knife deep in my throat
........................................
but those purples and greens
created in life
and held in your dreams
propelling you far
wash your feet in the stream
with your net and your jar
run through the woods
forget all your haunts
the coulds and the shoulds
frolic and roam
just don't ever leave
because at that time
you'll find and you'll see
that beautiful butterfly
that once you had caught
sadly turned out to be
only a moth.
About the Creator
Merrie Sanders
Writing for fun and as an escape from the everyday. After all, what is life for if not to create?
Comments (2)
Butterflies are graceful things of beauty but I quite like the bulky cuteness of moths.
well done!