(they’d cleave off my face too if they could)Īnd a nametag, tacky uniform take its placeĪt what the world could be like without people in boxes. They’d have my beard, and its million individual beautiful and unique hairs, One million times one million times over. May the artists bring their dreams to life Not one hundred percent but better than it once wasĭazzling bright these butterflies have been locked in theĭarkness of cages hoping for a more appropriate color to formįrom the subconscious fear that mainstream society will perhapsīe another heap of crumpled metal with glimpses of beauty visible.Īll butterflies share the same hopes and fears,Īnd the true romances filled with cheese. This has lead to the acceptance of many things,

Those butterflies have been revolting too.īreaking the bars and escaping the confines of their cages. One by one gradually for a few decades nowįor ages girls have guiltily cluthed their butterflies in a In their attempts to be what their fathers want them to be. Opens its wings in a brilliant deplay of color.įor ages boys have repressed their true selves Only to be stifled by ourselves as we try to present a certain image.Ĭaged, the butterfly flutters its wings hopfullyĪt some point or anotherthe cage is unlocked and the butterfly Unknow to us at birth it is at the lowely caterpillar stage The carrier of dreams, messages, wishes, thoughts Is the bright translucent red of the rainbow, So the blood of the innocent and the tears of those who mourn,Īre the tears of happiness and forgivness from the clouds, We can see the reflections of our souls as we mourn?Īnd when our rain rids those pools of red, Will the tears dilute the blood to the point where, Tears more clear and more pure then any ocean current, I’ve stepped on a moth and cried because of it,īut no tears have I shed for a lone, dead, stranger of a soldier.įor my eyes rain for the spirits of the innocent and for the great loss,Īs well as the pools of blood beneath them.Īnd when all the tears of the silent have befallen into thse pools,

So she pulled that trigger & the seams fell apart,įinally she was able to feel as if nothing was wrong, Twisting & turning & leaving all sanity behind.īut that – my friends – is a treacherous lie,įor nothing heals the damage that type of pain brings, Her emotions had warped into a demented theme park ride, His presence lingered on her body & in her mind, Long after he had gotten his fill & tossed her aside, Unable to prevent him from getting his way. But whose pain & humiliation tore her world apart,īy chaining her to him with a strong vise.

Shut in rotten tomatoes daily wire