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Come, behold
Look, see
All the butterflies that I imprisoned
Look at my garden of pride
and my bleeding fingertips
All the thorns that I fought
Look at my tinted palms
All the colors I tried to preserve
around me
you see the wings of dead butterflies
and dry leaves
Come see
I have nothing
How colorful,
my nothing is
and I’m standing here
alone
See how that corroborates your claims
See I am “all colors and fragrances and wings “
Watch me
as I pin you to my collection,
with all my butterflies
that evaded me
Arqum
18/11/2015
(218)
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