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
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


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