retrospective feels

rude encounters, opportunists chancing
off-handed comments, snide remarks sneaking
past the armed guards or under the fence
words tactful with malicious intent
suddenly bustin’ in through the vent
serial vibe killers, you remain benign
it went over your head but given time
their words mutate into
insults into sadness
a state of grief, a state of
disbelief and lack of self belief
a concentrated calculated
well articulated attack
bad moods contagious, you go about your day
flailing, writhing and churning inside
once glorious in flight, now worthless in plight

the maimed butterfly is in effect
and you plummet with it in vain hope that
the sensation of falling will ground you eventually

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