Butterfly

It was on the beat of butterfly wings, We became torn (micro-emotion fibers worn), Like pages from a discarded journal, Always said we knew what we were doing, Until all that we did was done, I thought that we grew yet I'm still just a caterpillar waiting to cocoon, But I don't know how to do it (it was supposed to be a natural thing), I hear the gentle beat of butterfly wings above me, Its simple life a distant disaster, A record of things ignored (so small, can't be my fault), Someone's bad karma.