I Object

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Metamorphosise Me Not

Its a cocoon that I've created
A covering. A shield.
Within it contain strands...
Strands of memories
Threaded together are the nights...
Of helpless laughter
Of inhibited tears...
The days i existed
In complete joy

A busied body... like a big eyed bee...
Perching and wandering...
Buzzing through evenings
Rendering my soul a fullness
The familiar roads
The unconditional care
The silent comfort
The intellectual babble

Its all still there...
But in private moments - of recollection...
Lik worn out sheets of scribbled images
I turn pages - I flip my past
In my perfect past i stay cocooned -
Refuse to be a butterfly.