The shadow

the tiny shadow of a fleeting black butterfly that is,
the world to me

insignificant, pure and impure thoughts of dying and meeting my flame engulf me
like crashing to a candle weakly burning
striking me

my cocoon is rotten and they do not see me for what i am truly
because i have left my cocoon
and what is left is a shadow of a burning black butterfly
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thanks to eunice
i think id rather choose to go up than to dig deeper