So, I'm floating around in your universe,
suffocating in rubber tin disease.
You pick me up to unlatch spin in verse,
while asteroids bounce off the tin crease.
I live in your eye. I am a fly,
captured in darkness will you let me out?
It seems all I do is to make you cry,
spinning around in your stye while you pout.
I promise I'll come around your beauty,
missing the thrill of all that I consumed.
The nurtured love flown from sincerity,
all the feelings emotional construed.
To die, dissipate into all that,
which is nothing left without, "my Lady."
Unless, maybe I'm a butterfly, "catch,"
caught in your net while I was shading.