Dragonfly

Dragonfly,
stop pretending your wings
are made of dreams and silences,
and shit like that,
because we both know that
you die like the rest of us –
you don’t even stick around
when the rain starts to fall.

Don’t flatter yourself that
in your crazy loop-de-loops,
you reveal the secrets of the universe –
the carpe diem of mortality –
death is never that pretty,
and for the record,
contemplating death
is just another form of self-obsession
no more glorious than being a
hypochondriac
or that annoying aunt who
just won’t shut up.

Your wings are colourless,
left-over wires tangled,
but your eyes are pretty cool.
I wonder if the world would be a better place
if we were all flies
with a multifaceted point of view,
swatted out of existence
now and then.

Were you disappointed,
in your first breath of air?
Don’t worry,
nothing is as bad as it seems,
we’ll pretend your wings
are made of dreams and silences,
and your crazy loop-de-loops
trace the seams of the universe,
if you will accept

that you are still mortal.

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9 thoughts on “Dragonfly

  1. Nice poem but a little bit angry one 🙂 I love damsel flies more than dragon flies – they are smaller and more beautiful and probably fit all the angelic descriptions that you have given 🙂

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