You get butterflies in your stomach
when your heart gets in your throat.
The butterflies fly up your butt
and poop out eggs of hope
And when they hatch,
those caterpillars
eat you from within
You're all filled up with hard cocoons
a metamorphosis
to begin
Soon
soon.
You're growing wings in places you can't fly
But soon,
Soon.
Soon,
Your hopes matured
in acid bath of undigested
questions why
will burst from you
and fly,
And never die.
And you'll lie there, an empty husk
with just enough of moisture left
to cry,
with your open, staring eyes
chasing butterflies
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