The Madame

 

The aspect of this butterfly

Is the beauty in its own lie

With hues that hide its reality

Flapping towards into insanity

Its grace brings forth propriety

As it lures men into conformity

They all stood as grand towers

But with minds open as flowers

Ready for her picking and sipping

Until all are empty from weeping

 

The Madame

 

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6:11 pm / 5th of April 2014

Sunday / In my home

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