Playing With Words

Dark Butterfly

Dark butterfly

Waking up to black butterflies, made up memories, white lies, everything outside is my enemy.

The ones who don’t know my language, will always be at bay – That one area, my grey. 

The birdie will visit every once in a while, the wolf will sometimes give you a genuine smile. 

But no matter size of knife, size of heart, you won’t get through, that’s my life; from the start it was always you

who don't exist, a prince of fairy tail and songs, a man of fighting fist.

Let your eyes, roam, the queen of self, the bird who flies on ego and the wolf who stays at home.

Let your skies bellow, at the indefinite, let them stay blind, they still won’t hear echoes from the pit.

They try to enter this world, but they don’t have the words, so I pass them by, I fly away like a bird.

I’m free, no one’s got me, I see, beyond the words that you need.

I feel, deeper, higher, like storming ocean, like raging fire.

No man or soul, will ever get my bone, I am, and always will be, alone.

Act with nonchalance and no one will cry, over the anger they built, over your height.

Flyers will always fly, they will always soar, but never reach the sky. 

Maybe he’ll change my view, if he does exist, give me my blue, or a sugarcoated kiss.

That’s when I'll back away, oblivious to my distance, He'll stay at bay and I'll embrace my own existence.