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Silent Beauty

Fascinating, threadbare
  child of an insect
grubby no more, with your
  pristine wings
translucently larger than
  a glowing greenfly
you're sort-of-colourless with
  a black inside
 
and basking silently atop a
  ripple
my flesh beneath the fibrous
  swathes
colourful hides my benign
  insides
you rest, observed from high, from
  careless aside
 
to careless fidget, of bustled
  breezing
you've tumbled the precipice to a tenuous edge
legs like filaments catch-a
  breezing
humour from your hidden faceted
  eyes
 
so right yourself, like a complex
  weeble
it's never too late to regain the
  entertaining
insect friend, this lack of
  animation
offends like scree - poised
  deception
my digit responds
 
but Oh! How your clumsy
  static crackling
petrified remains respond in kind
  not right!
your wing drops off. Open up
  that pit
shit. Beautiful creature. Dead
  all along.

- Simon Huggins, 31st May 2002