You were born from the tips

of a butterflies compass

Systematic members that

form a figure eight as you take flight

 

But you are paper thin

 

So thin darling

 

We can all see right through you

To the spear that’s engraved

into that heart of yours

You would have thought

it was all milk and honey

 

Little droplets of dew

stuck like tar to that hair

dusted across your wings

 

That luminary sphere

had a collar wrapped around you

Rays that had sacrificed your descendants

Twelve months a year

 

You have barely lived

much like them

But you’re so worn out

from those passages

carved into your roots

 

And it’s miserable darling

 

Oh so pitiful

 

Seeing you beg Eros to set you free

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