Poor Butterfly,
You wings are crushed beyond belief.
There is no way to heal you
And to make you better.
Too many people have decided to damage the beautiful thing that you are.
They didn't care, that about you,
That you hoped to fly around the world.
Now you lie bleeding, crying, dying.
And no one can fix you.
Though people have tried.
No one will ever look at you the same.
Poor butterfly.
They did almost everything they could to hurt you.
Now they taunt you.
You have lost your beauty to them.
Maybe a small fragment of your wings isn't broken, and you can still fly.
Maybe.
Maybe one day you can learn to trust people
But not today,
Though some people are trying,
And it is hard.
You feel bad. They shouldn't worry about you.
You are a faded butterfly,
With no glory,
Nothing to offer.
But maybe one day they will tell you the reason they care.
And help you to fly again
High and away
From all that troubles you.