Butterfly
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Sometimes the past isn't always as nice for children as some adults often believe it is.
For some of us it is/was like hell on earth
Oh butterfly, my butterfly
My heart, my flutter, my being
At the moment I still cry
Come a moment that I sing?
Where ends the wood
Where stops the tree
I’d end it if only I could
When will I be free?
Oh butterfly, my butterfly
My inner me, my being
Will this moment pass me by?
Will you help me sing?
Bring the sun back
Through the blinding cloud
Turn my broken black
Into shining proud.
And make my brokenness
Into full-coloured wings
Give me my voice back
Let me sing.
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016
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