
She had wings with colors of heaven,
Beautiful butterfly she loved to fly,
Carrying the frolicking pollen
She spread happiness and made buds swollen
Even with an aura of an angel
She somehow had something to grumble
In search of something queer
She wandered here and there
Born as an ugly caterpillar
She thought the world was a bloody killer
Hated the cocoon she was woven into
But then she got wings; happy wings to fly
To search something that was beyond stings and sly
The flowers became her guide
Their touch, their smell took her to a new stride
She got to know of feelings and love
And high she flew to find her dove
Her colors turned pink in hue
Blushing with her lover, up she flew
Sweet beautiful butterfly
Little she knew, what was coming her way
Her mirage, her illusion was soon to die
The love that brought her all the laughter
Was called “madness” she was flying after
Was it that she never inferred emotion?
Or had love got a new definition?
Sweet little butterfly loved to love
Mindless of risks and outcome
She wanted to fly with her love
He held back and brought a ho-hum
He was loving, caring and able
But unsure, restless, and fuddled
She was a free bird, a complete wayward
He was structured, and sobered (up)
Poor little butterfly,
Trapped in her own wings, unable to fly
Loner in her dreams and reveries
She wanted to hide in crannies
Rip off her wings and shed her color
She didn’t want to be a butterfly, whatsoever