Flit and fly my butterfly.
Though they say you're small and weak,
the colors on your wings imply
your strength and your physique.
Their eyes see vibrant hues
of red and gold and green,
but I for one am terrified
of the you that I have seen.
Your long tongue slithers in and out
of your hideous face.
It's black and sleek and slithering,
oh where did I put the Mace?
Suddenly you're at my side,
you must have caught the flu.
Why not perch on a shoulder,
of one that likes you?
A shriek is heard,
I run around,
and you flit away.
And somehow I feel sorry,
sorry I ruined your day.
Oh my, your luck was bad.
How'd you pick the one that'd say “no”
Amongst all those you could have had.
a black rock in a field of snow.