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Watch the Butterflies MAG
Bare as bones,
My skele-
-ton frailly sha-
Shakes
As I-
I
Struggle
To stand.
So thin
And weak,
I am wide open
For someone
To break
Me again.
A breeze passes
Through my
Empty
Chest
After all,
My heart is
Long gone,
Stolen,
And never given back.
I shud-
-der
As my ribs turn cold
And a tickling sensation
Vanishes
Very
Slowly
As I watch the butterflies
Fly out of me.
Now
I am free.
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This poem was partly inspired by my own heartbreak as well as e.e. cummings' distinctive style in which he uses punctuation and structure especially to emphasize his message.