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