Each morning the butterflies
rise.
It’s a nauseous feeling
caused by eyes.
She trots about, I’m awaiting
the day,
Where once again she’ll come
my way.
She’s refuses the coffee,
and insists on strawberry.
Our relations are made common
Like the rich man eats
ramen.
The diverse coalescence of
times,
In contrast it saves
potential dimes.
Yet, money sings quietly
above,
Since by my heart sings the
biological dove.
Her title is one which
suggests:
Perhaps I should pursue the
person which pests.
The other of same name
Makes ripples in the
pursuing frame.
She’s a picture that saved
me the warm season
Now that looks like a wasted
clover reason.
Shall I clench the soil
To only have it foiled?
Cut short by cinematic
travel,
Should those without desire
toss the first gravel?
I have it and will toss it.
Without the desire your
freedom is grit,
An annoyance in spit.
Poetic evolution from heart
to liberty,
Contrasts a question of
stifling duality.
It will not do to choose a choice
that chastens the spirit.
Better a leap into the dark,
still why do we fear it?
Across the mountains and
over the sea
Lies unimaginable possibility
To liven the spirit and
fulfil the need.
It’s a result that’s desired
with exacerbating speed.
In the meantime, remember to
always have fun,
The path of life is a
gushing run.
It turns and twists down
valleys and gorges,
Cutting the rock, the
mindset it forges.
I will find a love that is
over that hill,
Leaving the choices,
especially the shill.
The next chapter is a song
and a reel,
Oh you butterflies, take the
wheel!
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