I don’t stop to see
blood spilt along the way
wounds on pride and self-esteem
inflicted by rejection and criticism
by those who should have ceased to matter
long, long ago
the only change of direction
is needed in thought
destinations will align
I don’t stop to think
how the past impacts
present and future
as long as I can
repaint, repair, rewrite
rebuild a fortune
-and not wait
for serendipities
I am told the butterflies are real;
not alive
but they were alive at some point
before or after incarceration
behind this glass
to hang in living rooms
by those who claim
to immortalize beauty
I can’t sleep
as I feel
the butterflies growing into
ugly, bulbous proportions
in the dark
all their crushed ambitions
threaten to spill over
the complacence of enthusiasts
who build transparent graves
for dreams; and
audacious authenticity
it tells the stories of sick minds
who think living beings
are wall flowers
meant to be seen, not heard
because aeons ago, someone wrote
a rulebook
to suit their interest
in every corner, nook
and called it decorum
those who dare to tell them
they are frogs-in-the-well
from dark undergrounds
not aligned to sunlight
or expansive, blue skies
will soon be painted black
and expected to die of shame
-a shame transplanted
in the wrong place
-a guilt imposed on others
to free their own will
-a story rewritten
to overarch truth
-a punishment postponed
till it strikes their soul
-a curse that spreads
across centuries
across generations
across lifetimes
for they made an effort to deny
the birthright of freedom




Very powerful poem, Reena. Outburst justified. Just quoting’ the only change of direction
is needed in thought
destinations will align’. I loved every word of this poem.
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Thanks a ton, Indira, for resonating with the theme.
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My pleasure, dear.
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The final phrase, “for they made an effort to deny the birthright of freedom”, is bad enough for butterflies even worse when victims are human beings!
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Absolutely! The perpetrators do not see themselves as criminals though.
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A powerful outburst and so true:
“it tells the stories of sick minds
who think living beings
are wall flowers
meant to be seen, not heard
because aeons ago, someone wrote
a rulebook
to suit their interest”
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Thank you so much, Merril!
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You’re very welcome, Reena!
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I like “the complacence of enthusiasts
who build transparent graves
for dreams”
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Thank you so much, Frewin!
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Love this especially; “I don’t stop to think how the past impacts present and future as long as I can repaint, repair, rewrite, rebuild a fortune.” ❤️❤️
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Thanks a ton, Sanaa!
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Wow, Reena. Your words are raw and pack a punch
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Thank you, VJ! Glad to know the impact.
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Most welcome
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