One day this flame will no longer hang on the wick of this candle.. but oh the irony, how we’re burning ourselves out.

I cry when I remember, for what once was a blaze is now but dying embers, the child is no more, the light is dim, my life, it’s as cold as nights in December, the end is nigh, of what I used to be, I am now but a remnant.

This world as you see it just isn’t the same, it is inane, are you in this to enlighten or to entertain, this isn’t sane, I’m in the rain all alone, am i insane, I’m in my lane, but they point fingers and say I’m deranged.

Each person is a module, a separate part of the whole, to see the picture in its completion, each segment like puzzles must converge and form as a complete unit, individuality is a disease.

Oh sadness, your crowns are overarching, will a beam of light ever penetrate those dark leaves, from where does this pain stem, rooted my heart deep, my branches are heavy, my head is down and my stalks weak, my efforts seem to bear no fruit, will I ever reach the canopy.

My own people say that all of my sadness I’ve feigned, but what you feel inside often is very hard to explain, and now I’ve become accustomed to the dark clouds, the pellets of frozen rain, the dryness of the cold winds that has burned my face, do I ever want the storm to abate.

In a sense we are all larvas and this world our cocoon, our chrysalis. Sometimes what you’re going through requires isolation, a process that comes with a lot of pain.
The cells in your body will be working towards change, towards rebuilding themselves.
So whether it be mental, emotional, spiritual, or even physical, remember that it is a process of cultivation, a process of development and reshaping of the self. And so in this moment you’re enveloped by darkness, but it is in this darkness that you shall find the light, and it is here that you shall develop your wings and consciously break though and transform into your higher self, the butterfly.