Something different...Not good...But new.
Somewhere the butterfly cries,
its delicate wings cease to beat
as it falls from the skies.
Into the womb of mother earth
it retreats...
***
Her lips red with lipstick, cheap red.
Like her blood, human blood.
She dare not smile now.
For if she did she'd let go of all
the hurt she has held inside.
She has no doubt that it would
all happen somehow.
The black mascara is dried on
her face in rivers of disgrace.
***
The whore spreads her legs.
The butterfly begs for life.
***
A cocoon.
There will be rebirth.
its delicate wings cease to beat
as it falls from the skies.
Into the womb of mother earth
it retreats...
***
Her lips red with lipstick, cheap red.
Like her blood, human blood.
She dare not smile now.
For if she did she'd let go of all
the hurt she has held inside.
She has no doubt that it would
all happen somehow.
The black mascara is dried on
her face in rivers of disgrace.
***
The whore spreads her legs.
The butterfly begs for life.
***
A cocoon.
There will be rebirth.