I ran across a butterfly
with a broken wing, struggling
only wishing to soar in the sky
this left me thinking

How many actresses are out there
that can make a man cry
that make you say
what is Hecuba to her
You know the kind

She ran away back in 05
out to Cali, looking for a small break
she is still waiting

tables

12 hour shift then
leaves to practice
before she breaks down
and cries
and calls it a night

How many poets paint
a picture using only
language
never to be discovered
You know the kind

The shy kid in class
that is always picked on
scribbles in a journal
if only you could read it
you would

understand

He walks home
to yelling parents
locks his door
and writes some more
before he breaks down
and cries
and calls it a night

only to repeat it
again
again

I picked up that butterfly
and brought him to the grass
away from the burning road
and speeding cars

I hope one day
it will fly
again
again