Thoughts.
Exquisite.
From
where do they come?
These
fluorescent butterflies;
Fluttering
their broken wings.
Somehow,
I feel them.
When I
face;
Truth.
:
:
Dreams.
Illusions.
Reality
check.
Banging
head against the wall.
I already
had enough!
Restlessness
seeps in.
Dumbfounded.
Pain.
:
:
Hurt.
Nervousness.
Pure insanity.
A moment of grace bestows.
Clearing the blocks from mind.
Like never before.
Butterflies.
Free...
~~payal~~
P.S. This poem has no rhyme, and is written according to syllable counts. Syllables are
1, 3, 5, 7, 7, 5, 3, and 1
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Absolutely stunning Payal ! Awesome lines" From where do they come?
ReplyDeleteThese fluorescent butterflies;
Fluttering their broken wings."
I liked the rhythm in this poem. X
ReplyDeleteI already had enough! No .
ReplyDeleteA poet with an immense heart can bear more pain.
The blue butterfly is there.
Because the irrational nurseryman
left behind the ' blue butterfly with lost wing'
to scribble
such classic poems.