So many thoughts lurk within,
And soar like butterflies in my mind.
I try drastically to classify them all,
For everyone to appreciate their kind.
The blank paper is the net,
That catches all these thoughts.
Then the classification process begins,
And poetry is made from these thoughts.
I articulate my experiences,
For all to gain from my existence.
So when butterflies cross my mind,
I grab the net and catch them that instant.