Butterflies

Little boy, so lost, so forgotten.
Sit at the roots of a tree, dead and rotten.
He can't find his way home,
So he just sits and cries ,
And waits for a visit from the butterflies.
The butterflies come to the flower, ripe and sweet.
They land on the boy every night before sleep.
And during the days, he scrubs his flesh,
And tries to get rid of the tempting sweetness.
The butterflies were pretty, calling his name.
He followed them to the field, now that's where he lays.
The lost little boy was never forgotten,
Sitting under the tree with his flesh becoming rotten.
He wants to stand up, to run away.
But only the butterflies know the way.
So he sits and he rots and finally one day,
He gets his wish, and goes away.