Butterfly

3 Comments

Tags:
  • Frustrations Of Life
    • ,
  • Pain

    Butterfly

     I am the butterfly
    My wings crushed
    By life
    Slamming into the windows
    Of false opportunities
    I carried my spirit on those wings
    That man killed my spirit
    He broke me, they say
    She raised me to be broken
    Told me how to be strong,
    Then raised me to be weak
    As I lay there
    With my crumpled wings
    I carry them to places
    I can never go
    "Fly, Fly, My little butterfly!" They laugh
    As they step on my wings
    "You can go, whenever you want
    But you can never leave me!
    I am in your mind
    In your soul
    You feel
    What I want you to feel
    You think
    What I want you to think!"

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    BringMeBullets commented on Butterfly

    03-08-2010

    Someone crumbled your wings... But your true power shines through in this poem. Don't let people step all over you. You may have the form of a butterfly, but you have the power of a goddess.
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    CatsMeow commented on Butterfly

    06-22-2009

    This is an interesting poem. The words could probably benefit from a bit more rhyming. It made me feel very sad with a defeatist emotion. If that is your intent, you accomplished that. I sure would like to see that butterfly get away with her wings still attached. Thanks CatsMeow.
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    JadedJezzabel commented on Butterfly

    06-22-2009

    I ONCE TOLD MY X, YOU CAN'T TEAR OFF MY WINGS AND EXPECT ME TO FLY.........I SEE YOU KNOW WHERE I WAS COMING FROM....STAND UP AND BE PROUD GIRL LIFE IS TOO HARD AND TOO SHORT TO LET ANYONE MAKE YOU OUT TO BE LESS THAN WHAT YOU KNOW YOU ARE.
    Reply to Comment

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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