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Yellow Butterfly

Held in her mom’s arms
She takes her last breath, last heart beat, and last motion
The flat line comes now, waves crashing in the ocean
Her lingering orange skin is set in its place
All of our minds are gone up into space
But her spirit had gone, and so is her pain
I hope our lives could ever be the same
People actually think life is a game
Time ticks, seems like I can never forget
The Butterfly has been set free
I’ve got that down, I’ve got that set
People think dying is good
How is it that when she was only five? That is misunderstood.
At least she has no pain; I give thanks, for I should
She might be living gracefully among the skies
Picking flowers, definitely that is no surprise
Playing with the other children that had there lives unfairly lived
I hope they have fun up there, since they were cut short of life, deprived.
Lying here, my head throbbing from crying
I really feel like I could be dying
I sit on my bed, with my hands on my head
This is the point where I wanted it to be me, not her, instead
Why does this person in the sky play these horrid tricks?
It’s like throwing things on my head, like bricks
But I know I have to move now.
But the thing is, I don’t know how.





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