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Kora Sani Jul 2019
we gravitate towards pretty things;
butterflies
and flowers,
but the ugly things
we hate
ants and beetles,
all insects alike
but we are quick to fling them away
killing them with one stomp
but when a butterfly lands on our shoulder
we take it as good luck

if the world didn't teach us
that we have to be pretty
if we want to be loved
would we still be petrified
of the creatures that surround us?
MisfitOfSociety Jul 2019
I’ve been,
Crawling,
Down on the dirt,
On my abdomen.
Searching,
For a tree,
To hang from,
To set the butterfly free.

This skin I wear,
Encases me,
When I’ve molted,
I will be free.
I will wiggle off the confounds,
Of bone and flesh,
Of space and time,
And of birth and death.

I was once,
A baby larva.
Eating my birth leaf.
I was so small and hungry then,
But I have eaten enough now.
It’s time to harden,
This old soft skin.

When I pass,
Through this knot,
In the infinite,
Line of life.
I will squirm out of my biology,
Taking on a whole new body.
That’s beyond all senses,
Beyond our limitations,
Beyond our imaginations!

Butterfly!
You call to me!
Butterfly!
You will be free!
Your time has come,
You have been waiting,
For this moment,
To break out!

That inner beauty is shining through,
Becoming that apparatus that moves you!
Listen to the rhythm of the beating butterfly wings!

Am I,
Just an isolated ray of sunshine,
Or am I,
The one behind the sun?
Am I,
Just some burden for light to bare,
Or am I,
The one who will bare the light?
Am I,
Just some insignificant speck,
On a spinning ball?
Or am I,
Something so much more?

I tricked myself so long ago,
Thought I was nothing more,
Than a worm on a tree,
Stuck to the a sphere,
Spinning out to nowhere.
This body is just an egg,
That encapsulates me,
Soon it will hatch,
And I will be free.

We are all larva,
We all have a butterfly.
Come and crawl with me,
Get down on your abdomen,
We are going to find a tree,
To hang from upside down,
And set the butterfly free.
San-Pei Lee Jul 2019
You can pin me down
But shattered scales will be all that is left
Wings bloodied
By a heart u n b l e e d i n g
Recurrent dreams of butterflies; my inner vision sings.
I saw my very happiness dancing on the wind.
Metallic iridescence like a precious living pearl;
Their wings receive the sun as they gracefully unfurl.
My fumbling hands swat the air to cage my merriment
But wings of bliss are transient, so my joys must end...
Waking from my reveries I find myself content
That butterflies and happiness will visit me again.
Georgia Kereopa Jun 2019
flower to flower
love seeks love, exploration
frolick in the sun
EmperorOfMine Jun 2019
There is a caterpillar inching his wee body across a leaf that fell, somewhere.

Gently existing, almost alone.

The winds could **** him.
The rain could **** him.
The dirt full of other bugs could **** him.

So many things, all around his wee little existence...
So very vulnerable, and nearly alone in a world full of life...


But that caterpillar inches his way through the leaf, eating and inching his way through his path.

Because his path will lead to a cacoon.
And a cacoon, though even more vulnerable, leads to transformation.


And when that caterpillar cracks through that cacoon, the shell that, although made him weak and easy to ****, stuck, and seemingly obsolete, it also caused him to shock the world.

He will become a butterfly.
And some will see him as unworthy, still.
Most, honestly.

But haven't you ever heard...
A butterfly can flap their fragile little, beautiful, wings and create a hurricane big enough to change thousands or millions of lives somewhere.

Setting in motion events that may not have happened if he weren't there. And in all events, something important is revealed; which ultimately makes him just as important.


So in conclusion, he may be small, weak, unappealing, vulnerable, boring, easy to ****, break, or bury...but he also has a transformation.

He is delicately dangerous, a gentle healer, and a permanent inspiration in many lives.

He was important as a caterpillar.
He is important as a butterfly.
D A W N Jun 2019
peculiar,
just like you.
you prefer hydrangeas
over roses
and when
you planted
a valley
of them
inside of me
i get butterflies in my stomach
everytime i see you
i wrote this in 10 minutes im so proud of myself oOf
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