Its white is for surrender,
The colour of its fear,
Hidden by the muscle
That lies within its shell.
Glistening membranes waved dry,
A tentative beating
In the sunshine.
Covered by the filth
That hides its shape so well,
It masquerades as beauty
To reach out further still.
Pale wings prepped for flight
The winds warm breath
To push them high.
A broken lurching monster
Stumbling in its shoes,
Breaking all that touch
Its hallowed golden form.
Watch them climbing through the light,
White butterflies rising up
And covering the sky.
Its white wings lay consumed
By clutching, sucking muck,
Its chance disappearing
As it slides beneath the earth.
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