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.

2 thoughts on “the bitterfly

  1. Another brill. You’re so original and fresh to the eye. I love reading your mind, so to speak. heh heh

    Bitterfly, indeed.
    But even this one doesn’t come across as bitter bitterness, more like unappreciated or undervalued. But I love the word “bitterfly” – just brill.

    *laugh* I think for a poem of yours to sound bitter, you’d have to take a poison pill before you start writing. *grin*

  2. 🙂 this was written a long time ago, so i guess i might go around tinker with it a bit more.

    i began with the title and ran with it. i liked the word, so i’d like to polish this verse some more.🙂

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