Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
EmperorOfMine Jun 2019
There is a caterpillar inching his wee body across a leaf that fell, somewhere.

Gently existing, almost alone.

The winds could **** him.
The rain could **** him.
The dirt full of other bugs could **** him.

So many things, all around his wee little existence...
So very vulnerable, and nearly alone in a world full of life...


But that caterpillar inches his way through the leaf, eating and inching his way through his path.

Because his path will lead to a cacoon.
And a cacoon, though even more vulnerable, leads to transformation.


And when that caterpillar cracks through that cacoon, the shell that, although made him weak and easy to ****, stuck, and seemingly obsolete, it also caused him to shock the world.

He will become a butterfly.
And some will see him as unworthy, still.
Most, honestly.

But haven't you ever heard...
A butterfly can flap their fragile little, beautiful, wings and create a hurricane big enough to change thousands or millions of lives somewhere.

Setting in motion events that may not have happened if he weren't there. And in all events, something important is revealed; which ultimately makes him just as important.


So in conclusion, he may be small, weak, unappealing, vulnerable, boring, easy to ****, break, or bury...but he also has a transformation.

He is delicately dangerous, a gentle healer, and a permanent inspiration in many lives.

He was important as a caterpillar.
He is important as a butterfly.
D A W N Jun 2019
peculiar,
just like you.
you prefer hydrangeas
over roses
and when
you planted
a valley
of them
inside of me
i get butterflies in my stomach
everytime i see you
i wrote this in 10 minutes im so proud of myself oOf
Bhumeeka Jun 2019
Hug
Take me up in your arm,
let me sigh in that secluded dawn.

You are my serene shelter,
ethereally cozy,
and entwined with warmth.

I meltdown to your aura,
I meltdown to your caresses.
The broken unstable puzzles of me
fall right on the place.

Thousands of voices echoing,
old scars of ripped heart,
broken melodies of hazy eyes,
and the agonies of falling apart.

Your embrace knows them all,
like I have always belonged here.

Take me up in your arm.
let me sigh in that secluded dawn.
If wings from every butterfly
Can move the air so readily
Then every better thought I think
Will change the world quite steadily

If one small bird can sing a tune
That makes my soul feel lighter
Then I decide to act in ways
That make our futures brighter

If sunlight cutting inky clouds
Brings vibrant light to eye and heart
I know that every mighty change
Had small and subtle steps to start

For wings and tunes are wispy things
As gentle as a summer breeze
Prosperity comes not by force
Yet step by step, it comes with ease
This is Prosperity Poem 35.  You can see it on a background here - http://prosperitypoems.com/delivery35ButterflyWings.html
cleann98 May 2019
divided we stand
then unity shall fall

in uprising
we topple
the greatest of all

we know
what you know
except we shout
them out loud

we see
what you see
except we never
cast them doubt

closed fist
foot planted
firm on the ground

we know no noise
until our voices abound
how do you shake it off?

it really isn't so weird how misinformation and revolution go together right?

tis like reliving the death of julius caesar if no one blindly assumed he'd grow to be a tyrant king, or like picturing the death of socrates if no one in the entire democratic government of athens thought an old man who only knows he knows nothing is out to get them.

go crazy. i never meant to say revolution is wrong.
idk maybe misinformation is???
***
heavy handed haters unite sounds like a college band name haha feel free to use it if ever :3
***
thank you for reading!!!
***
ps. sure the earth is flat and all the government units in the world is hiding it for reasons. also nasa faked the moon landing and they still deny it for reasons. also global warming isn't true, just more and more people are dying from stroke globally each year for reasons.

thank you.
Diána Bósa May 2019
One, from time to time,
may feel that love is just like
the butterfly room;

one may like the way
enter into its softness
first, for the tiny,

unfurling wings' touch
fondles tenderly, gently.
But there comes a time,

when one may find that
these wings are made of razors;
circling, whirling one

all over engraved
by both the sin of the flesh
and the crime of heart,

writing into one's
helpless skin, that cannot be
shed ever again.

With engraved letters,
scribing meticulously,
and bathes every page

in the ink of love,
giving birth to the story
of pain, the story of us.
Next page