B
literature

Butterfly caught in a thistle.

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I used to be beautiful.
I used to be able to soar above the trees without care.
But now I have been caught be a thistle.
How? You may ask.
Well it would seem that I caught sight of a lovely purple flower.
Mistaking it for a lovely place to land was my mistake.
It lured me in with a soothing voice and quite demeanor.
Until I was near enough for it to tangle itself around me.
I could have mistaken it for poison ivy at this point.
The way it wrapped itself around me so cruel.
It became impossible to move without my wings being torn.
My poor wings.
The wings that it had taken me years to grow
Were now being torn apart by my own thrashing.
What was I to do but to lay still and await my fate?
I waited for a time but I soon realized if I were not freed I would die.
So I struggled more tearing and pulling until I was freed.
I crawled away, to damaged to fly, but I knew that I must move.
If I had not moved then when I was finally freed
You would have entangled me again
I would have lacked the strength to free myself again.
So here I lay
Torn
Crushed
Broken
That is my story why I lay here no longer beautiful
Why I must build my wings again until that day when I can fly.
When I will be more beautiful than before.
When I will be freed from this pain.
When my scars will heal and I will fly.
Poetry I wrote about a relationship I am in.
Published:
© 2008 - 2020 readyornothereicome
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