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Poem: Seven Years Ago

Seven Years Ago


Seven years ago he stepped out of the grass

Into the muddy swamp, littered with glass

Garbage, vermin, toxic fumes, acid, death

He started digging, glass cutting fragile skin

The wounds festered but he ignored his health

For to stop digging, to cease torture, would be sin

Seven years ago, he slew a butterfly

Seven years ago, his conscience died

Seven years later, the tears’ not dried

Seven years later, his hands’ still tied

People stare from the grass, unwilling to come near

His crime forgotten by everyone but himself

He chooses not to stop, not to come back to the land of wealth

He’s bound not by chains but by fear

Fear of harm, of killing again

Unfit to be human, he keeps digging


A butterfly lands on his shoulder and he flinches

Stumbles away frantically

Buries his head in his grimy hands

Whispers a prayer for his old self.

Seven years ago, when he was human.

Seven years ago, when he could feel.

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