Butterfly

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Butterfly

Mouth zipped tight and channel's closed
The daily grind, the words transposed
From head to lip, touch to type
No response, circle closed too tight
An inch worm once, butterfly long ago
Burned too bright, now can barely glow
The strain and effort each interaction takes
Leaves short the breath while the heart aches
Cards once held close, haphazardly tossed
Across the board, the game feels lost

Last updated: 2015-7-24

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