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Rated: E · Poetry · Inspirational · #2202906
Hope, in its own way.
There was a caterpillar once
She fluttered from leaf to leaf
Trying to find food.
She grew up into a beautiful butterfly
Blazing through bastardly flowers fighting
Until she reached one flower
Whom she called home.
But Flower closed herself on our little butterfly
Forcing her to bow down
Clipping her wings
And pushed her away.
Our little butterfly lay there
A small, sorrowful little thing.
She cried her tiny eyes out
Cloaking herself with softly whispered apologies
And tilted tears.
Shrouded in her invisibility,
Our butterfly grew older in the darkness and waited for
The Light.

She did get used to the darkness,
She did get used to the sorrow.
She would eventually get better,
As long as she'd be there tomorrow.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2202906