Crawling out of my cacoon, it seems that I have ran out of room.
Time passed by and I have emerged a decayed butterfly.
Unable to take flight, growing to old to fight.
And my heart screams
“ where are my wings? “
The regret I can now taste, it is a sick flavor of waste.
There comes a point when it is to late to change and you got
Nothing left to rearrange.
Forced to face your own reflection, mine is far worse than what
I expected. It is everything that I do not want reflected.
Walking out on a high wire with self inflicted wounds beneath my feet,
I have awoken in disbelief. Wondering how long I have been asleep?
I have been living numb, letting sacred moments pass me by.
Letting myself turn into a decayed butterfly.
Again, my heart screams
“ Where are my wings? “
So, I can fly far away from reality and all that I see.
But I know the one thing that I want to escape is unescapable
And it will always be, me ......
By Tracy McDaniel
© 2019 Tracy McDaniel
(All rights reserved)