He bred butterflies in his stomach.
They started off as caterpillars
Slowly eating away his confidence
Leaving him with a fist-sized hole
In the middle of his ribcage
Stuffed with grenades
Heavy and delicate,
One beat is all it takes
To cause an explosion
Of fluttering wings and confusion.
Now, there are butterflies
Flying everywhere
Taking the air out of his lungs
With their little colorful wings
Making small hurricanes
That travel from his chest to his head
YOU ARE READING
A Graveyard Of Words
PoetryA poetry collection ------------------- My words will just die without having been read My voice will only be swallowed by the cavern of thoughts without leaving an echo My stories will cease to exist. COMPLETED. ©bil garcia/ flightywords
