2011-6
Somebody said storieshad voices, so
I settled myself
and listened very,
very hard.
But the stories only
had eyes, thousands and
thousands of them, each
gaze pinning me to
a page, like
I was a butterfly,
leaving me steel-staked,
and fluttering.
Poetry by Minhocao
Read 505 times
Written on 2011-06-29 at 18:52
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