old stuff

Her

She has a name.
     she is innocence,
     she is wisdom,
     she is peaceful,
     she is tortured.

She is bound.
    her freedom
      can kill her.
    her binds
      will kill her.

She dies slowly
    ever searching
      for her wings.

She is me.

Nov 2, 95

Morphing

He's a little crawly thing,
 wandering on the ground.
His cocoon is with him always
 wrapped around him as a shroud.
He can feel his wings a' sprouting,
 just a little bit of pain.
He knows not what they look like,
 it's driving him insane.
He wants to be a butterfly,
 gorgeous wings and a name.
He might be some moth,
 destined to die in a flame.
Until it's done,
 he shall not know.
Shall he burn,
 or will he grow.

Nov 2, 95