Captured And Pinned

In it’s own personal graveyard

Photo by USGS on Unsplash

A butterfly’s life span
Is usually quite short,
You captured it in a jar
As some type of sport.

No way of escaping
Can only wait to die,
Do you feel no pity
For this waste of life?

Locked in it’s jar
Waiting to perish,
You’ll argue that
It’ll be cherished.

In a plastic box
Body pierced with a pin,
Positioned carefully
Starch in it’s wings.

You’ll print it’s name
On a little white card,
Mounted below it’s box
In it’s own graveyard.

Something to stare at
No longer any use,
Wish you were this butterfly
And this happened to you.

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this piece, you may also enjoy this one.

Pure Romance

Originally published at https://vocal.media.