My Poetry

Death of a Caterpillar

I crawl out of my cocoon, slamming the door behind me, promising to never return.
I return sometimes.
But now, never.
The cocoon stands still, like it’s frozen in time. Not moving forward or backward, but stuck where I left it.
It is alone, abandoned, and screaming in agonizing pain.
The four purple walls are beginning to dismember themselves and collapse.
The purple paint is peeling off like old, blistered, skin.
And the four squares are melting down like a candle burning to death.
Now all that remains in my cocoon is scant ashes of who I used to be.

2 thoughts on “Death of a Caterpillar”

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