When nothing means less to you then the existence
Of your spongy puppet covered by a dirty flesh,
That fear and pain are gradually wringing for no good reason
Just remember the butterfly’s dance in front of you,
Look at his fragile wings piercing the sky with their pastel colours.
And let that memory make your frozen heart fly far in the summer,
Away from the cold reality, only during a blink.
For butterflies are ephemeral but butterflies live free.
2 comments
I really like this, how it must be to live free.
I wrote this after really wishing to kill myself but failed and friends came home and things went kind of an unexpected way. Still wanna do it through and this is one of the small things keeping me alive. The idea that something so fragile can yet be so beautiful and free, even if it sometimes burns itself with the light it is always better than dying in the dark