'The butterflies you gave me
have found their way to get inside my head.
They keep pounding on my skull
with their delicate wings.
My own thoughts are being bitten,
failing to see all the colors they wear.
You gave me these poisoned butterflies,
did you even noticed to who you gave them?
They keep spinning around my brain,
whispering melanchonic words.
As I grow, they start to die,
death butterflies laying around my mind.
Others filling me with new colors to look upon
and beautiful sounds to listen to.
As I keep closing my eyes, I see those empty
butterflies, as lost memories just being there.
And I realized I always blamed you,
for leaving me with this sight.
But the blame was not on you, mother, I know.
You gave me these pretty butterflies not knowing you
were poisoned by the life you had to live.
And as I learned to accept the you is me,
I'll blame myself for hearing that echo of those
pounding wings some days still.'