There standing in a mist,
white as mother's flour,
her eyes are dry, emotion
seeping through in a one
syllable question; why?
Why did you clip
my butterfly wings,
why did you chain
my crippled feet
to this cold earth?
You erased my lips,
stealing my smile
like a worthless
candy bar on your way
through this isle of life.
Rub your eyes, let your
heart lift this heavy fog
and restore life
to those inquisitive eyes.
1 month ago
1 comment:
"Why did you clip
my butterfly wings" I can just hear my Gran in that statement--It's really creeping me out how every aspect of my interaction with this blog village is reminding me of my own life. Beautiful poem--absolutely beautiful Sarah. I reckon you could write for your life if you had to.
-CLAY
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