Butterfly wings

I’m sorry little one.

I’m sorry that someone cut your wings.

You never got to fly and explore the world,

to understand yourself amongst all things.

You were far too colorful,

and it blinded their plain view.

So they took away your wings,

and took your freedom from you.

You were kept in a glass jar,

For them to stare at and poke.

You were only let out

to be the butt of the joke.

One day you’ll find those,

who will help you craft new wings.

They’ll glue them together,

with hope, paper and strings.

You aren’t so little when

you learn to fly again.