Poezja

are we so selfish, to do away
with ourselves? lock me up,
wear the key on a chain around
your neck; it's to keep me alive-

have i ever needed tending?
i've promised i'm okay, but
you'll see right through me,
my butterflies and sharp smiles

or will you?

the tips of my fingers, they
are rough, catching at my skin
and all of these pictures
sepia-toned seeping sunlight
wishing, wanting again

with these, i've never been so free!