metamorphosis

as much as i would love to call this a kafka reference, it’s not quite that i’m afraid. i do have a slight butterfly obsession (i’m so sorry if you’ve ever seen my room) so read into that if you wish.

either way, i beg and crave transformation and growth and could ask for nothing more from life than my metamorphosis to never ever ever end.

anyway, i start sixth form in a week (sobbing) so i don’t know what to do with myself. i write a lot but i don’t write a lot of poems. i just write. some of it feels worth sharing, some doesn’t. still have things in the works. currently reading like seven books which is absolutely delectable; anna karenina is gorge and the master and margarita is a chaotic masterpiece.

song: from 2 to 3 by peach pit (this is at the top of my replay, i worship this song)

mama! i made a cocoon!

i made it gooey and

warm

i’ll stay in here until

the shouting is quiet and

i am enough

i will stay in here

and let my caterpillar

body rot.

i will stay in here and

this silly cocoon will take good

care of me

i wont wonder about

being a butterfly.

what if i can’t break the cocoon?

what if i cannot be a butterfly?

what if i am simply not enough?

i will rot and rot,

and rot,

and my crude body will rot with me

though -

it appears i have no choice.

i feel my Guardians and

Guides and Angels

unzip my cocoon

i surprise myself

by not resisting, by enjoying

the stinging pain of metamorphosis

Light holds my wings,

softly cushions me as

i break out of my cocoon.

oh, the wonders of

evertransforming.