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.
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