Just like a sponge that immerses in life around her, she absorbs.
A quality that’s bittersweet.
Constant energy caressing her soul;
these days, absorbing more of the bad
realizing she’s growing old.

But this butterfly knows that age is just a numeral
She doubts her wings and strength.
Will her strength be enough to carry her to the next peak?
She longs to break free from misty haze, weighing her down, and delaying change.
When will obscene power loosen the grip on her fading wings?
They used to shine with valor and coast with ease.
Forced to live in reality now;
Thus given the chance, she would disappear
to tall mountains, engulfed with Evergreen trees.
Hovering so gently over the daffodils, where the colors burst.
Yellow, blue, green!
Must there always be beginning, middle, and end to beauty she's seen?

Her visit doesn’t last long in the acquired state of peace.
A fading memory now, as she feels tender wings go obsolete.
She bestowed her colors on a flower that didn’t understand.
The loneliness that lies within her,
The power of man.

The night she tried to take her short life,
and came so close.
A familiar face flew around the bend,
and this is what she wrote.

You’re fresh out of your chrysalis, take time to grow.
Tread lightly and know that you’re not alone.
You’re important and already have a lot to show
It’s a tough world out there, but filled with beauty
Don’t you know?
I’ll cry salty tears with you, if you’re hit and feeling low.

This gregarious face replaced judgment with compassion.
I wonder if she knows her role, on the night,
death of the butterfly
nearly happened.