butterfly without wings
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I set my eye on the setting sun
and think about the choices I’ve made so far in life.
Too old for regret.
and think about the choices I’ve made so far in life.
Too old for regret.
A spot darkens on my horizon
does it ruin my view, my perspective?
or perhaps it was meant to be…
as the clouds roll on, crushing dark thoughts.
A butterfly without wings,
does it die, or find a new way to carry on?
