A White Butterfly And The Written Words
i am afraid
i really have
to keep
on writing
what shall happen to me without
the written
existence of this poem?
i am afraid
about the consequences of my
arrogant
submission that i can live without
all these
quivering of
scribblings
what if you have nothing to read?
i am afraid about you
for this is this flower and you are the loneliest
butterfly
in white against the light
you shall disappear
and this flower falls to the ground
it rots. And you are
gone.
tomorrow morning
words repeat themselves over and over again
another white butterfly
comes
and will always hover
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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