When I was just an innocent child,
Unlike others, I wouldn't go wild
I would swing in a cherry blossom tree,
And no other children would notice me.
I was a shy child, very timid of socializing,
But a boy with wings was approaching,
"I can be your friend, dear one,
We will explore every corner
Of your rich imagination
We will fly beautifully together"
Time passed, I felt amazing,
But the clock was ticking,
The boy said: "It is time to go, my love,
It is time to let go, we'll be together
Even after the end!"

Pretty girl
You're afraid, you child
You're gaining weight upon those shoulders
Shoulders used to be bone
Grown muscle
And your heart lost its size

You're no longer small,
Though you feel it.
You miss it.

But your talons
Were ready to strike for years,
Now it's time to spread your wings.

They'll tell you how beautiful are your wings,

While they bind your pinions and strip your feathers.

"So graceful and so precious!  Such lofty, ethereal things,"

The words like rusty chains, cracked leather-sentiment tethers.

They'll tell you, "Rise above the sorrow, fly from the pain,"

After they teach you to clip your own wings so you won't fall,

And when the confusion sets in they'll be the first to tell you you're sane.

"People can't fly," they'll say, and point to the wings nailed to their wall.

A little bird in the cage,
A cage with invisible bars
getting dense with every passing second,
The more she tries to free herself, the more it bites on her skin,
leaving scars, imprinting her mind and soul,
The cage has thorn around it,
Getting sharpen with every edgy spell of her kinship
The more they do, the more sharp are the thorns,
the more they cut, the heavier she bleeds.
The more they misinterpret her shrieks,
The more her wings get shattered.
A helpless little bird in the cage,
Lies in the pool of her blood,
Trying to get out of unbreakable rage.

Beginning like a little egg, soon to hatch into a butterfly
we search for the way of the butterfly,
starting from the lowest phase slowly reaching the skies.

Butterflies are like us, they cannot see the elegance in their wings,
but everyone else sees their glorious emergence
in the likeness of winter to spring.

Like a bridge connecting two energies,
one is water and the other is fire.
Both form a steam,
two in one are gathered to roam around,
with the sun above drowning them in a stream of unity.

Rainbow arises, butterflies absorb its colors
spreading its waves across in every life,
foaming the surface in flowers.

We search for the way of the butterfly
that reaches the dawn of another day.