Like a butterfly flitting around,
Never here nor there, but everywhere at the same time,
Moods flicking with the beat of each wing,
Never fully committed to one thing or idea,
Just wandering, its capricious feelings making it free yet chained simultaneously,
In an illusive cycle and never ending quest for peace,
Which can never be attained,
An infinite story with chronic emptiness at its heart,
Just wanting to be loved.
Constantly metamorphosizing, backwards/ forwards,
Who are you?
You really want to know?
Because I don’t know myself,
What do you need to pacify you’re interest?
I am everything and nothing,
A never possessed possession,
A non purposeful purpose,
Just an existence,
A wandering lonely existence.
Me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem