Un-winged butterfly.
It sits and it lies,
Deep within my insides.

First it arrives,


Fluttering around like




My emotions and body are its playground.






Trying to escape






To the outside maybe,







To the person that put it there.





But things always change...
That person leaves them all alone,



Stuck inside me, still fluttering...
No.
Not fluttering.
Flapping;
The more damage,



The more panic.

The more panic,



More I can’t take.
Finally, it gives up,


Leaving me in pain and tears.
Now it has been beaten down-

My butterfly.
The last of my self-esteem


Has now torn its strongest wing.

It’s like a thin piece of newspaper

Rubbed against a thorny tree.
Shredded to pieces.

Tired out, ready to give in,
But she is strong

And she is willing to try again.