DetailsThe poem, its numbers, and the conversation.

Disenchanted

Member since 2002 · Posted 30 Jul 2002 · 3 comments

A moth beats itself against the windowpane A child flings herself against the same glass door. Wings and arms that know only motion, They speak the same language: "Make me a butterfly."

Rate it

0 is the worst, 10 the best. Pick a number, add a comment if you like, then send it. Keys: 0–9 pick, Enter sends.

mean 6.88 weighted 5.50 rank 2655 views 163 View voting details →

8 votes so far. Yours would make 9.8 votes so far

3 comments

[9] Sigh'ense... 30-Jul-02/7:12 PM Reply

well I quess you told me.
Color me crunchy.
by the way yet another mezmorizing peice and im not just trying to get in your knockers.it's so innocent and prissy if you arent a women you should get a sex cahnge

[9] Sigh'ense... 30-Jul-02/7:14 PM Reply

"woman" and "change", my bad.
..Da1

[7] horus8 30-Jul-02/7:19 PM Reply

normally i have this things against moths cuz my first poem well..nevermind..still a witty little ditty <texaco.belladona.mandrake.lotion.ferret