Inside The Butterfly Jar
Who am I to confess my sorrows, when there is no one left to care?
My soul feels like a butterfly, trapped in a childs jar.
Though the beauty may still exist, I am suffocating.
I can feel my wings tapping on the glass walls
Knowing on the other side, only silence exists.
Time and existence seem to have lost their meaning.
Emotions, which at one time defined who I am are now merely shadows.
The smile on my porcelain mask denies my pain.
While I am drowning in the sands of an hourglass.
When will the mercy of the reaper,
Place the last grain of sand
Then finally release my soul to the wind?
© 2007 Brian K. Walters
2 comments:
Lovely poem and so appropreiate at this moment. Thanks for sharing it.
u write well. this is what i wrote for blk history month, do let me know what u think The father of Jim Crow
sedulous and do add me to your blog roll if u like what u read
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