Butterfly Misery.

Don't ask, don't tell.

Sudden vibrant hue flitters ever-so
gracefully in my mind. A butterfly.
Shall I follow? I do think that your
teasing heartbeat of a wingspan
does not want me to follow. Or

perhaps, perhaps. A presumption on
my behalf? Indiginous to mental
clarity, I do think. I know not.

Are you trying to trick me? Coax me
into a den of sin? Unravel me from head to
foot like a mummy? A prehistoric relic?
A folly of time gone by?

I do not think I care, this engaging
paranoia is too complex.

Doublethink.

Must a strange insect, blooming from a
barren heart like mine, lead me- like a
Christian to the lion's cage- into trouble?
No, not I not I.

Rebellion is a lost cause, I just want to sleep.
I will drink heavily from your cup of bitter
gin and thallium. I will string myself from
high in the rafters

if such a thing existed.

Betrayal is all in the portrayal.

Of course. So, silly little luminous moth,
you want me to sell myself for a dime?
My life, my spirit, my soul for a piece of pride?
How facile of you, kind butterfly! Sir of colours
bright and unknown. Of course you have your
freedoms, your clarity, your vitality. Where's mine?

Oh but of course! Mother dear has snatched it away
from my cradle. Of course; of course. I am not
trustwothy. I am not real. I do not exist.

Why should an unperson have freedom?

Little butterfly, go home. Your teasing brings the
bile to the back of my banal throat. I will not stand
this bullying no more.

No more, I tell you. No more!

Aggghhhhhhhhhhh.

It's too good. You make us fellow poets pale into insignificance.

Oh, I really like this poem
Very good rhimes, interesting words. In my opinion.
Just good in general.

Proof my poems are getting worse. .
Kidding but I would like some critisicm and stuff.