25.3.10

DECEPTIVE MOTHS

The butterflies are in my face,
To make sure that I don't erase,
The memory of outer space,
That I now know I must not chase,

The butterflies are in my head,
I block them out until they're dead,
Though when I put my mind to bed,
They linger in my dreams instead,

The butterflies are in my eyes,
Blocking views of pastel skies,
And hopeless thoughts of a demise,
Or erasure of all the lies.

by Me.



LOVE!X

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