deepundergroundpoetry.com
Writer's Block
Like a Butterfly's
wings clipped,
The beauty is gone.
Nothing left to do,
But wait for a new dawn.
Sitting here, crying myself
to sleep.
A sad little worm,
So ugly that others weep.
Though a few hope and are waiting,
For the beauty to grow back.
But what can a Butterfly
do without wings?
Whose only use now,
is become the Spider's snack.
wings clipped,
The beauty is gone.
Nothing left to do,
But wait for a new dawn.
Sitting here, crying myself
to sleep.
A sad little worm,
So ugly that others weep.
Though a few hope and are waiting,
For the beauty to grow back.
But what can a Butterfly
do without wings?
Whose only use now,
is become the Spider's snack.
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