Inside The Butterfly Jar

Inside The Butterfly Jar




Who am I to confess my sorrows,

when there is no one left to care?

My soul feels like a butterfly,

trapped in a childs’ jar.



Though the magic of life still exists, I am suffocating.

I can feel my wings tapping on the glass walls

knowing on the other side, only silence exists.

Time and existence seem to have lost their meaning.



Emotions which once defined who I am

are now merely shadows.

The smile on my porcelain mask,

denies my pain.



I drown in the sands of an hourglass

as I wait for the mercy of the reaper,

to remove the last grain of sand.

Finally releasing my soul to the wind.


By Brian K. Walters