Hatched from their cacoons,
they're all different now.
Changed to different colors,
different tones, different attitudes.
Newly-winged butterflies flutter
to wherever their hearts desire.

Then there's that one caterpillar,
left in the dirt, not wanting to flutter
with the rest, but to walk with the bold
down below.

Change will come, but if the heart
        changes, so will the mind.

The caterpillar with a heart as strong as
        gold
tires of being with the butterflies
who do whatever they please
regardless of its righteousness or
        wrongness.

The caterpillar wants to grow,
but to walk instead of fly
as high as the sky.
To be grounded and strong,
not high and fragile.

I died last night.
A stain of red upon the sheets.

I died last night.
Without a sound leaving my lips.

I died last night.
And I'm still lying there.

I died last night.
Without a care.

I died last night,
to live for today
and to grow for
tomorrow.

I died last night,
to live.