Butterfly

Butterfly, butterfly how do your wings fair?

Broken, battered, why do you care?

For is it not your choice to fly?

Away from pain which cause you to cry?

The weight I carry is so much to bare.

I'm to battered to lift myself up to the air.

Poor butterfly I wish it gone.

So once again your wings could make their song.

© Christina M Wilmes

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© 2018 by Christina M. Wilmes, Peace in Artworks. Proudly created with Wix.com