I often question the validity of my breaths kissing the air
I question the words leaving my lips
I question the worth of the slow rise and fall of my chest during two am thoughts
If I am merely a monarch
If I am ever truly spreading my wings and taking flight
Or if I am stuck to a branch watching the world spin violently around me
And in the midst of the carousel I beg to make it stop
Is that what I am? A monarch just dying to dissolve?
A moth hardly would describe me as bleak
Captured air inside a glass
If only I could scream the words I wanted to speak
Hi! Cadlynne Dovel here, hopeless romantics. Withering relationship, mother of one and animal lover beyond what words can express.
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