Seen it in a magazine,
meant more to me then life itself.
Waited days, counted the hours,
checked my mail a thousand times a day.
Many times I went to see,
I just could not stay away.
My first step was the timid larva,
tiny soft egg shapes of lifes breath itself.
Many were chosen, but I soon learned
few would live up to the task.
From the bottom of a glassed shaped vile,
to the middle of the vee-shaped flask,
those tiny larva just seemed to be.
Yet they would be, so much more.
Days turned into weeks
and a month went right by.
Slowy I showed progress,
I showed some success,
I even felt godlike inside.
Walked around in a daze,
stayed up working on it real late,
and for once in my life,
my life passed me by.
Then lo and behold,
in my hand a treasure
did I hold.
This tiny life of larva
took on a new kind of shape.
With many tiny little legs,
and a life all of its own,
I no longer felt all alone,
They can bind me
but can not take that away.
Back in my room away from
all this pillage and doom,
that funny ball of substance
caressed my face.
I have now only two,
one horrid black and
the other one blue,
I think I've done good
for a whilte guy,
in an unwhite neighborhood.
I dont leave my room much anymore,
afraid to cross the threshold of my door,
and the windows to the outside are not
Things we take for granted
are taken away from us in here.
So I stay to my self and i live here in fear,
as If life did not matter, ceased to exist.
Seems to be the right thing to do.
I have waited for this day,
all my demons shall I slay,
and soon, I shall set my soul free.
No more tears will I cry,
in my hand a butter fly,
one wing of horrid black,
the other one blue.
You see I set them free,
every year of September two.
That be my birthday
that be my death day
one more or less,
it's all the same in here.
Life in prison, is a prison of death.
My butterflys are my way of being free.
Post Edited (08-29-03 03:25)
Words written not in neglect, are songs outspoken. Listen first, sing them later....and you will be heard.
A captivating tale. I enjoyed the read. You are an excellent story teller, Steve.
I liked the whole piece and especially the title. Thanks for the read.
An interesting poem to say the least. Happy Birthday.