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Butterfly

Lost and Found by Randy Wayne Spire

What is this thing I’ve become?

I march to a beating drum.

Whose hands clench here at my sides?

I reach and control divides.

What path do these worn feet tread?

I move but life’s long since fled.

Whose hate unfurls in my mind?

I blink and glazed eyes rewind.

What world is this I’m within?

I’m torn and bereft of skin.

Whose voice pours forth from my lips?

I call and the daylight slips.

What things issue from the dark?

I scream and thoughts disembark.

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