by Amelia Forrest

Created on: February 27, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

Butterflies

Feel as though I haven't eaten for a day,
Yet here is nothing,
And all's gone.
When sleep starts to creep in to the corners of my eyes,
It's then my eyes close to stop it,
And the sleep creeps in.

Sleep is where dreams are woven,
Like silk in to the mind.
Scaring the memories of those who wish for life and nothing more.
But when is it that I forget these beauties?
Butterflies that cannot be grasped,
By breath, by word, by song.

By love it is that I hold,
Keep and will not forsake,
These twisted memories,
Minds more powerful have forgotten,
Where one hand was laid and life given.

In the mind of those who do not remember,
Lies a treasure not comprehended by man,
But by that which is not seen or heard or known,
This is where hate and pain and love are spun.

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