Culture

You’re worming through life, while pretending to be a butterfly

I feel nothing,
laced with anger.
I want nothing,
while wanting to cause pain.

I’m done with your false self,
yet hope to find your core.
I’m done with your tired self,
while I await your truths.

You’re hiding your motives
behind a veil of modesty.
You’re worming through life,
while pretending to be a butterfly.

I long for this no more,
as the burner’s flame is gone.
I long for a stable floor,
as the ashes give rise to a new fate.

I welcome your thoughts

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