remember your cocoon of fear?

you were wondering whether

you would emerge a butterfly

or wither and die;

spring always decides for you:

eyes shut,

wings not yet ready -

just threads of silk and hope

tying the knot around your frail secrets;

you wait to awake,

you dread the change

yet know it begins;

in your slumber you dream

always the same dream:

your wings grow and grow

until they turn into a wall of black leaves:

muted cries,

words that never carried thoughts

entombed in its dense foliage,

weighing you down -

you are no longer a butterfly 

but an unnamed body with a fluttering heart:

flying is just another 

endless sinking…