The butterfly is a frugal fellow
His dancing wings float ever aloft
He is always well mannered and mellow
Yet deemed queer because he's modest and soft

He passes his time in contemplation
Placates with colourful diplomacy
Works hard and avoids procrastination
He's artful and filled with tenacity

Not a slurp when, his ambrosia, he sips
His etiquette shows: it is well entrenched
For outings and ins he'll sure catch that tip
The rarest charm to behold but not clenched

Luck sees you such a butterfly at play
He's a frugal fellow and so he'll stay.

A loaded gun behind the perfect shot,
infiltrates my mind with memories I forgot.
Pills and potions couldn't help ease the pain,
the man with the mask I can no longer keep sane.

And in the bleeding sky I saw,
scars I've encountered once before.
The depth is scary, but I can't look away,
I dive and drown in this red ocean every day.

I close my eyes and hum a song,
trying to outshout the things I've done wrong.
It's a suicide mission to try and win this fight,
so I'll just get lost with the strangers of the night.

On the gleaming tracks I run with no goal,
it's just an endless journey within a distant black hole.
I'm just a fraction of something that could've been great,
but, I know it's too late to change my bulletproof fate.