"It's beautiful," she uttered.

a poem about being a trapped in a place without any sense to leave it.

"It's beautiful," she uttered

as she stepped into the gutter,

"the way the butterflies flutter

away from this place."

As if they know better

than we who fetter,

who fester and muster

lost souls together

and become nothing better

than captives of this place.

The End

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