Butterflies

Oh colourful butterflies,

Are you really as happy and free

As you look when you fly

Across open fields

Under bright blue skies

Oblivious to the world

Beneath.?

Oh beautiful butterflies,

Are you really as enchanted and pure

As the little girl - who chases you

With her purple net, and stumbles

And laughs as her feet touch that grass -

Believes?

She won't desire you ten years down the road,

You know.

Oh delicate butterflies,

Are you really as heavenly as the world tells her,

When you seek the sweet nectar of the flower

On whose unsuspecting petals you perch,

Carefully Balanced.

Oh the irony you hold in your folded wings,

That in peace you begin your hunt

Exploiting the good and precious moments

Can't you just let her blossom?

Oh captivating butterflies

With what evil did you draw her attention,

The little girl whose tiny fingers gripped vibrant pens

Colouring within the lines,

In all her effort

Creating.

And by what twisted virtues did you cast your spell,

That she would seek you,

That you - and your sickening

Sinister plots - would consumer her

And lie dormant until

One day, when she hopes for Spring,

You flutter inside her

Awaking a new kind of

Unknown emotion.