Drowning in Butterflies

It is in the spaces between how far removed we feel we've become from everything that made us people, everything that made us real. 
    Enough time, enough disappointments and you'll become the one going beyond compromise for compromise. 
What value is skin touched empty?
What weight is flesh not torn apart?
Life is not a path life is a metamorphosis, and how much we become at the end equates to how much we've pushed against the confinements we'll always be tangled in.  

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