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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1638596
just a little poem i whipped up a few months ago. im not sure what it means, but i like it
The black petrol butterfly clicks
through the fragrant air,
and spins into oblivion
as you call its name,
Jardpin... Jardpin...
forever lingering on that last
horrific vowel,
until your mind slips away
with the wind...
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