Beautiful butterfly with
Bumblebee best friends
Gliding gracefully through
Meadows of mesmerizing marigolds.
Forever, it seems.

But one day the flowers turn into intruding hands
Fumbling fingers feel those frantically flapping wings
They hold down your heartbeat.
Beat. Beat. Beat.
Primitive pricks pin down the perfect purple of your freedom

They tore off your true pride
Ripped away those wonderful wings
And left without saying good bye.
Your abdomen now abstract, those arrogant hands smashed all you ever had
You're forced to face this friendless place
Even the flies turn you down.
Because, after all, where is the beauty in a wingless butterfly?