You have spotted me. I am turning into a butterfly.
But first I enter my metamorphosis.
I am tightly bound, bundled in a silk cocoon.
But as my time approaches, I am afraid. I am afraid to be my true self. I am afraid to be a butterfly.
I bury my head under the silk and say to myself, "I am afraid".
It feels so awful, I want it to stop.
I try to stop my breathing and yes, the fear goes away.
But on my next strangled breath it returns stronger. And with every breath my fear gets stronger and stronger.
My mind tries to help and asks what are you afraid of?
Are you afraid of the terrorists? Are you afraid of your mother? Should you strike them first before they strike you?
But my mind says, if you strike them first, they will strike you back.
Can you, can you contain your fear?
Can you breath pure fear?
Can you breath ice into your lungs?
How can I bear it?
My chest expands and expands. I can feel the cocoon tearing.
And as I look out, I find I am looking straight into the cocoon of your eyes. |
Submission Name: Cocoon
