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butterfly feathers on infant skin;
the ribbons of scarlet have left only their ghosts.
i almost can't remember what they felt like.
i am released.

weary muscles
i struggle to breathe.
the deluge crushes my fragile cage,
a thousand tons in one single being's being.
the racing heart, the crawling skin,
the inner droning monologue.

and then i remember.
©2008-2009 ~percara
:iconpercara:

Author's Comments

xx.
it's a work in progress.

3/12/09
edited second line.

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October 4, 2008
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