The butterflies that ruled my past
appear to have flown away
but I know that they have not died;
for I still feel their wings flutter,
tickling against my itching feet.
I wonder if their wings have strength
to carry me through my fear
back to where I once felt happy
and if so, can I match their strength
and reward their delicate nudge?
I miss this like a punch in the face,
but I will gladly endure
five thousand more if it means that
I am able to once again
be proud of the person I am.