This is the end of the poemoff (sigh!)

father's tears, cursing (poemoff 16)

if i'd been a butterfly--
transceding my childish form--
perhaps i could have escaped
that hug which shamed me
even as i was
the specialest girl on earth.
still red cheeked memory
imperfectly hermetically sealed
(oh! how i tried!)
forgotten
until perfect passion
transports me to that
broken doll
i'll always be.



The title from this poem comes from "FINGERNAIL LIKE A DROPLET OF WAX," by Zack.