Isn't it amusing to watch her struggle
like a butterfly in a jar?

Beating herself uselessly against the glass screaming to
be heard

Fluttering panic longing to break out
metamorphosis into someone beautiful
not a nothing to be poked till she breaks

She looks like everyone's favorite little girl
till she opens her mouth,
driving everyone away

Glittering diamond dust congealing,
falling from her stained glass wings
Glass jar focus scarring patterns across
her back

Butterfly girl sinking to her knees,
manic heartbeat slowed by suffocation
driving force behind her smile to far gone to care

Oh, She's watching her last sunset
counting her what ifs
rewriting her end

And everyone's watching her
pretending to be just fine
as she flutters the brink
whispering the words that gnawing
at her mind

Their eyes turned upward
to the tune of her voice
selective deafness only ceasing
when she silences her self out of loneliness

Still branding patterns in plain sight

Entertainment to waste away the night
meditative relaxation
nothing but the smoke and pain

Turbulent center quieted
with only a few scars
Still they remain deaf and dumb
to the obvious
Leaving her to break her own spirit
for a another's love

She's a survivor they tell her
with out hearing the full story
with out knowing how it really happened
Judgments for better or worse

Making her into who they want her to be
as she's breathing her last breath
they argue over what to carve on her tomb stone

Eulogy of the misunderstood
Cliché tragedy of teenage suicide
She had so much potential
they'll whisper at her funeral

And it's played out just like she knew it
would,
They're all still clueless about
who she really was

Their beautiful butterfly girl screaming in a casket
accomplishments forgotten
Just ashes in the wind
cut loose once and for all

Dust in your eyes
cry for her in death
rereading what must be the rants
of a disturbed mind

Makes it easier to shift away
blame
She's crazy, maybe if we ignore her
she'll go away…

And went away she did
crawling deeper in her
psyche
Your Butterfly Girl curled
around a continually repeating
subconscious mantra of
…Not Good Enough…

And for her she has her
truth
and she has her lies
like chains staking her to
the bottom of her open jar

Her voice exploding like a tsunami
Despite themselves
they're listening
and desperately, simultaneously
trying to silence and encourage

She's screaming back in harmony
All their voices blending into
one
Catastrophic Symphony

Warped and twisted she is rising
ripping away her lies for
the select few to see
Acknowledging
Who and What she is

Butterfly Girl perched on
the lip of the jar
still dragging chains around
Ready to shed her guise
of the Beautiful Butterfly Girl
because she always liked
Snakes better.