Butterfly crept upon my shoulder,
eyes leap to her instincts kicks in,
mistaken for a bee, slam! ! !
Instantly, I recoil in regret, as
Little girl, reaches slowly, but constant, to
catch a butterfly.
Gorgeous pattern of colors, fly
like a white angel in the dusk.
that's what you enjoy
gas fumes, popularity, quest for money
the residue of impressing the ones you don't love
and where will that plastic smile take you?