A butterfly,it's wings clipped
She's held down forever,
Floral Nectar awaits inviting nobody.
She's struggling to rise again,
To break free and be
The predestined beauty of creation.
Naive is her second name.
Her fragile loveliness now lost-
To the impulsive need of one.
She lies,awaiting her final fate,
Unaware that it's way too late.
She dreams her dreams to fly away,
For confinement binds her to the worst state.
No comments:
Post a Comment