Once there was a man
a collector of things
kept a box of butterflies
with damaged wings.
A curious soul asked
why not let them go?
The collector snatched the box,
shielded it from prying eyes.
'Cause they can't fly without me!
YOU ARE READING
Where the Flowers Bloom Unwatered
PoetryA collection of poems written throughout several stages in life, journeying through the human condition through the lens of black girlhood and black womanhood.
