Folding In

When I'll wake
I will be a caterpillar
Now a butterfly
Missing the womb
Blame the cracks
For misguidance
Miles down
There is no bottom
Stamach of godzilla
It grows so warm
Colours of swirls
Candles wet
Still shining in the rain
Candles wet
Still smiling
Hot cans
Burn through the thick
Skinn of pigs and hogs
That came before them
Burn your meaning
Your past
In one instance