Senile Butterflies

I coughed up a butterfly the other day, much to my surprise. I didn’t even recognize it, didn’t even know its name.

I asked it who it belonged to and it couldn’t even tell me. Did it forget? How long had it been in there? Are there more?

Senile butterflies, all trapped in there, fluttering their wings to no end. Much like myself.

I was initially hit with nostalgia, but I quickly smothered the feeling. I got angry, so I smothered it too.

“I don’t have time for you.”

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