Boiling Alive Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Boiling alive

He holds in hand
What I hold in mind
A butterfly.

He is an artist for sale
Hundreds of Pounds
I think of brutality
For the silk.

He has mixed paints
I follow the poor cocoon
Curiously watch the pot boiling
Worm is cooked alive.

And why…?

Line of thoughts disconnects.

For…?
What…?

Beautification?
Presentation?
Show off?
Softness?

Or…
Wealth and power?
Over what?

Die body…die and…
Leave my soul alive.
Born free must remain.

I have nothing to sell
Do not offer yours

I will not buy anything
Nothing but love and care
Know them, have any in you?