Golden Girls

I have fallen again

Into a well

Of depression.

Where the

Black butterflies

Roam freely,

And every cut

Makes sense.

A place so dark,

Your brightest light

Would never be seen.

I’m sorry, mom.

But your golden girl

Turned gray

And this is where

I must stay.

But don’t worry,

I won’t fight myself here.

I went back

So I can save

The other golden

girls and boys

That turn gray.

There are others

Just like me.

They sacrifice their souls,

For the life

Of the lost.

We stay out

Of the light.

So others have

Room to glow.

I have fallen again

Into a well

Of depression.

Where the

Black butterflies

Roam freely,

And every cut

Makes sense.

I’m sorry, mom.

But your golden girl

Turned gray.

Your little girl

Lost her shine.

Please understand,

It’s something

I had to do.

So the other golden

Girls and boys

Can find their way, too.

So they will not

Break again.

Because I have fallen again.

Fallen again.

So I can save

Someone else’s skin.

And help them

Forgive their sin.

I have fallen again

Into a well

Of depression.

Where the

Black butterflies

Roam freely,

And every cut

Makes sense.

But don’t worry, mom.

I won’t

Hurt myself here.

Reviews

[nono]

Aw, this is beautiful. I absolutely love it.
"Black butterflies
Roam freely,
And every cut
Makes sense.
But don’t worry, mom.
I won’t
Hurt myself here."
That part, just sums it up beautifully. You did an awesome job with this.

[light and ashes]

Brilliant, even though it is darkness you speak of in this poem I see a bright shining light at the end of it. That light is hope.
As I read it I imagine you as a hero, in armor, shining bright and bold in a world fighting darkness. As you fight your voice in the background is reading the poem, even though I do not know what your voice sounds like.
And then I image how cool it would be if suddenly in the background poets starting reading it with you as if they are a joining arms with you. We fight the battle. And it is an honorable one, we try to save the souls in our path.
Strikingly beautiful.

[Blue Moon Ice Cream]

I loved the lines "I'm sorry, Mom. / But your golden girl / Turned gray." The imagery in this poem was excellent.