the bitterfly

he flies across the garden,
glossing over the blossoms
with a mindset that doesn’t allow him
to see the sun
or notice the colors of flowers,

once upon a time,
during his caterpillar days,
nobody saw him
as more than a worm,
and he believed them,
never trusting himself,
even after he had grown his wings.

he is the bitterfly,
sipping nectar, stealthily, to survive;
he shall never know inebriation,
believing always his unworthiness…
he had become the very thing
he never wanted to be.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s