The Flutter of Wings

Gut-wrenching butterflies,

Cry— at sights unseen

From avoiding eye.

Dressed up fatalities

Masquerade as formalities,

And change is on the back burner.

Restless fear of the next dark corner.

Churning pain returns again,

Butterflies now die but leave behind

New cocoons, wistfully waiting

For emerging life to carry on,

Witnessing the frustrating.

Spun lies, keeping ties,

Wishing for the berating from the wise

To minimize, and eventually

Hope the flutter of their wings calm,

I hope, oh so desperately.