the traumatised butterfly

fragile butterfly, I can understand why you drop tears

lingering in an autumn and winters sky

why are you in the wrong climate

a camel crying, treading on icy sand

why are you seasons away, you poor butterfly

crying inside the winds indifferent and cold arms

lingering unhappily, her wings feel like pieces of paper

she has lost the safe ability to fly, take a purposeful direction

lost amongst the arms of the cold and indifferent wind

an unhappy climate, an unhappy home

she is worried about her paper wings

in the air, what if they get torn and ripped

pulled away from her tiny body

she would no longer be a struggling sighing butterfly

but once again, a caterpillars frame

ready to drop to the cold carpet floor

worried for her wings, worried for her safety

in fear, she struggles too much, she cries too much

and the wind has taken her too far

crying for the correct climate

the beads of warmth, the soft and gentle breeze

maybe her now paper wings, maybe they would reform

if only her aching thoughts could create a reality

escaping the torment of the cruel indifferent sky

the camel cannot endure the cold sand

cries for the temperature to rise and soar

a wishful thought, not one she can make a rigid reality

if she was made to fly the sky

then why are her wings repeatedly turned into thin pieces of paper

why do storms push against her delicate frame

if she is made to fly then why is she beaten down instead

why do the winds of the sky torment her

treating her with no respect

where is the sunny sky when she needs it the most

the rescuing sun hides behind the clouds

she is an aching butterfly born into a world of rough winds

storms, distress, pushing her beyond the limit

only a fragile butterfly lost in the wrong climate

in the wrong world, trapped and pushed around

overwhelmed by a force too large, too powerful

those fragile little lonely wings, too delicate, too kind

she wasn't made to be pushed around

tormented and tortured, those delicate wings of hers

were not made for such a terrible world

she was meant to linger in the sun

just like the camel with its soles, feet, on the icy sand

wondering why its feet have to go numb

aching for the warm feel of warm sand

between ones frightened and sad toes

people are born to be happy

not to endure torment and torture

traumatized by the outside environment

the poor little butterfly living in a winter's sky

why did her wings have to change into paper

why was she not born into the sunny sky

a camel, a cold climate, a butterfly in the cold clammy sky

it's all wrong and nothing makes sense

why was she born into the wrong climate

placed there on purpose to endure pain

why was she not born into the sun