Heath Ledger - I do miss you!

A bad poem I attempted to write about the boat scene in "The Dark Knight"

The Joker and The Boat

Your smile,
Like time,
Makes us realize,
How little time we might actually have left.

I watch the smile on your face.
Time wastes.

Happiness upon your face,
As you told me my effort was wasted,
I couldn’t save the world
Before you destroyed it.

I watch the smile on your face.
Time wastes.

People were contemplating lives,
People that shouldn’t be,
Couldn’t be.
Time was wasting,
One of the boats possibly about to explode.

I watch the smile on your face.
Time wastes.

You wanted to tear me down,
Have me see the world through your eyes,
Suffer in every moment,
Laugh at all of the pain in the world.

I watch the smile on your face.
Time wastes.

The clock ticks midnight,
Both boats remain.
I smile.
Humanity is left in the world.
I have won.

My Attempt At Emo Poetry

This poem has been completely revised about a billion times, but here is the first draft. It's dedicated, in part, to Jess G.



Christmas Ornament


The girl looked up into the sky.
Today was going to be a new day.

She would find a way to sweep up the shattered pieces of her heart,
Which, thankfully, were on the inside, so she wore her smile.

No one could know who she was:
The girl who had pulled the razor blade
Across her forearm until bright beads of red blood splattered
Her perfect pearly white skin,
The girl with the severely concave stomach
Who forced herself to not let food be a comfort
Until the only sound she knew were growls of hunger,
The girl with the tear-stained cheeks
From staying up all night
Until her tears eventually sang her to sleep.

No, she was supposed to be perfect.
She was going to pick up the shattered heart by herself,
Let the glass from it tear up her hand,
Instead of the hand of someone else.
She was planning on doing it all alone,
Life – that is.

She used to be happy,
Used to let the only person who was okay with her imperfection
Hold her in his arms,
While she cried the tears that proved she was flawed.
He compared her to a Christmas ornament,
His Christmas Ornament,
Everyone saw them as beautiful,
But no one ever thought about the dangerous process
That went into creating that beautiful blown glass decoration,
The glass so boiling hot and threatening to burst at any moment.
People just assumed it was perfect.



He left and her world tore apart,
Like a piece of paper being cut with sharp scissors.
The Christmas ornament was shattered.
It fell off the tree and was swept into the trash,
Only to be forgotten by its owner,
Until they stepped on the one piece that was left behind,
Complaining about their own pain,
But not caring that they might have broken the ornament even more.

The girl looked up into the sky.
Today was going to be a new day.

A Poem that I am never going to do anything with

Starbucks - I'm still pissed that the salted caramel hot choclate was taken off the menu...

As the front door opens,
The cocoa-ey mix of coffee and chocolate fills the air
And I step inside.

I see the familiar couches and chairs that surround the counter.
The pastries are in their designated trays waiting to be served.

People walk out carrying their Mocha Frappaccinos,
I order my Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate and sit on the couch.
The noise of the blender fills the air,
Then, the noise of the whipped cream can.

I watch the familiar barista drizzle the caramel sauce over the whipped cream.
They set the drink on the counter and call out my name.
I pick it up and walk back to the couch.
I stare at the abstract photo directly across from me.

Old Simon and Garfunkel songs blast from the radio,
Only making it seem more like a coffee shop.

The caramelly-chocolate tastes smooth.
This is what I have been craving.
This is home.

My Heart Sits on a Table in Starbucks

We sat down with our coffee and talked. It was the last time we ever talked face to face, and, honestly, it almost felt like the first time, it had been so long. But it was comfortable. And I fell for you a little bit. I kept telling myself I didn’t have feelings for you, but that was a goddamn lie. You were leaving. You were going away to some other place, off to start your own life, and I was probably never going to see you again.
As a going away present I gave you my heart, but I don’t think you really cared about it. When we left, you left my heart sitting on the table. You didn’t want to take it with you. I searched the lost and found, it’s still missing.
So, now, I have to know, if my heart is lost, how am I supposed to give it away again?





Explanation, I don't know what is on my mind... It was just a random thought and me over-analyzing life...

End of Religious Power Struggle

Okay, for anyone who has actually read my blog, I know you are like, "okay, I got the Hell thing, and maybe a little bit of the Heaven, but not enough to know... and where the hell did purgatory come from? and what is this Earth that you belong in?" I know there are a lot of blanks, I will try to fill them in. I just feel like it was important to write this because this actually pertains to real emotions right now.

Heaven. Hell. Purgatory.
Earth.
Normalcy.
This is where I belong. It frightens me. But this is where I belong.

The Determining

I was always a very studious person, more studious than the average kid. From a young age, I knew I wanted to be successful and have straight A’s.
My struggles with reading comprehension and writing would soon bring those dreams crashing down. When I was little, I always did horrible with Language Arts, but I loved it. I hated math and science, but it was definitely my strength. I always scored off the charts in state testing for math and average for English.
From the day I realized I struggled with English, I pushed myself even harder until I was good at it. That was when I started sucking at math, and I classify that as the best moment of my life. I knew my parents would no longer pressure me into doing anything math or science related.
I really didn’t realize my weakness in English until fifth grade. In my fifth grade class, we had these newspapers we had to read and do assignments with. One assignment was a creative writing thing where we had to create a new continent and describe the people that live there.
I spent forever writing this story and I was so incredibly proud of the piece I’d written. I called it “Hanterstein,” and everyone lived outdoors and raised Bengal Tigers. It focused around two people, Kirsa and Bryan, best friends working to save the tigers from evil hunters. I thought it was clever, original, creative, and was very proud of the piece I’d written.
Unfortunately, my teacher, Shirley Lee, did not feel the same way. I was expecting all of these congratulatory comments to fill the page. That didn’t happen. Instead, there was a big fat “C” on the top of the assignment.
She didn’t even give me any reasons why, there were no comments on the page or anything. I was offended.
It was the most painful feeling I’d felt in ten years. First of all, it was a “C” and second of all, I’d tried so super hard at this assignment.
That was the moment I decided I wanted to be a writer. I am usually one of those people who when you tell me I did something wrong, I never do that thing again. I give up. But with writing, it was a different story. I enjoyed it.
I struggled with it, getting lower scores in it than anything else, but I eventually pushed myself up to AP level English. I joined the newspaper at my school and got an internship at a local newspaper, getting an above the fold story before age 17. It was then that I crossed journalist off of my list. For a while I didn’t know where that left me standing as a writer. I still don’t necessarily know where I stand as a writer, but I am curious to see where I will go with my writings.
To this day, I don’t think I deserved to get a C. Maybe if I hadn’t, however, I wouldn’t have realized I wanted to be a writer and I wouldn’t have pushed myself so hard. Who knows? Maybe I would have accepted math and science as my strengths and pushed myself harder in those subjects.
So, in a way, I really have to be thankful to Shirley Lee for giving me that C on the assignment. Without it, I’m almost scared to know where I would be.
I still have the intentions of making my “continent” into a story. It’s a little different now, there are no tigers, for one, but I am still just as proud of my creativity as I was back then.

The Eye Patch

My dear, dear sister... This isn't what I think of you in. You did, however, convince me that you worked for Santa Claus... and I believed you up until the point that I didn't believe in Santa Claus... (If mom and dad read this - I STILL believe in Santa Claus. Ha.) If this offends you, I am sorry. That isn't its purpose. Its purpose is to keep me at an A in English... So, I am posting it on my blog... it's okay, no one reads it anyway.

P.S. I am sorry... sometimes the name is "Marie" and sometimes it's "Mary." I think I caught all of the mistakes (I switched the name halfway through) but, if not, I know that I may have this issue.

The Eye Patch
My sister and I were watching an old episode of “Recess.” I’d just gotten home, and it was a tradition that we did together every Wednesday.
My sister, Mary, was the older one. She definitely understood more about the world at the time then I did. Now, I believe it’s quite the other way around, but that’s a whole other story. But at the time, Mary was 13, a teenager, and therefore I believe she ruled the world and knew everything. I had been so in awe of her that I believed there was no one greater than her.
I was a gullible child too. I always believed everything, as long as Mary said it. I had been so gullible, that she was able to convince me that she worked for Santa Claus and that she lived in another dimension as a dragon.
I had bad eyesight as a child. A lazy eye, which they had caught early. At the time, I thought the fact that they’d caught it early was the worst thing that could happen. The optometrist had sent me eye patches in the mail that I had to wear with the ugliest glasses. (It didn’t help that I had a huge head and a skinny body and was already teased on a daily basis for looking like a character out of “Peanuts.”) They tried to make them appealing by putting a cat and other patterns on the front of it, but it didn’t help. During “Recess,” I didn’t have to wear the patch.
I didn’t understand why I had to wear the eye patch. I didn’t even understand that my eyesight was bad. I could read and see just fine. They didn’t explain to me that only the muscles in my right eye were developing and the muscles in my left eye weren’t. These are things that they should tell the 7-year-old. All I knew was that I was the first kid with glasses in the class and it had just set my path for life. I would be forever-four-eyed and never chosen first in gym.
Maybe I looked more forward to not wearing the patch than I did hanging out with Mary. Sometimes, when Mom wasn’t looking, Mary would even let me take off my glasses.
That afternoon, we were sitting on the cool leather of the very lived-in green couches, looking at the old television cabinet, Mary with her Pepsi and I with my Juicy Juice. This was our only sister time.
I looked forward to this moment every single Wednesday. I even wore a red baseball cap, like the character TJ, to school so I could be ready to watch the show.
The episode of “Recess” dealt with TJ and his gang of friends getting into trouble yet again. I believe the teacher was named Ms. Gokey. Well, Ms. Gokey was meditating on top of her desk and Mary pointed out that she didn’t shave her legs.
I didn’t understand this at the time, but I nodded and shook my head and laughed. Mary was my cool older sister and I just wanted her to like me. I always did this. She usually didn’t catch onto my act, but this time she turned to me.
“Riley, don’t laugh, you don’t know what the heck that means.”
I was seriously offended. My sister had just crushed my heart. I think at that moment, I would have rather worn the ugly patch over my eye.

Untitled

Inspiration? No idea. Meaning? No clue. True story? Nope.
Title? It was "The Night" but I don't like that name...

The girl got in her car, shaking, not knowing what to do. She was crying, something she wasn’t used to. She was supposed to be strong and brave. This was the life she had wanted, how could she be so unhappy?
Her shaking hand could barely hold the cell phone as she tried to dial Chase’s number, not knowing whether or not this would end up being a mistake. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen with their relationship and was confused why she had decided to let the relationship continue while she was at college in the first place. She’d decided that he was a low life going nowhere, but couldn’t find it in her heart to break up with him.
“Hello?” Chase’s cool, relaxing voice answered the phone.
“I don’t know what I am doing,” she was hysterical, tears running down her face, “I can’t do this anymore, I don’t have a place to go, I can’t stay here. I don’t know what to do, Chase.”
“Hey, calm down. You can stay here if you need to, you know that. You going to be okay?”
Are you, she thought. He was the only person in the world she didn’t correct though. She let his grammatical errors slide though they felt like nails on a chalkboard to her. It made her a hypocrite because she knew her grammar was horrible, but she didn’t bug herself with bad grammar. Other people bugged her.
“Yeah, are you sure I can stay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She made the 102 mile drive until she reached his apartment complex, stealing the one remaining “Guest Parking Spot,” well, spot from the dimly lit parking lot. She was afraid to leave her 2008 Beamer, a graduation present, in such a dingy lot. This place always gave her the creeps, always seemed really shady, but it was the cheapest rent and when you are living paycheck to paycheck on a minimum wage job, it is the only way. She was just spoiled and would probably never live that way.
He was sitting on the stairs on the outside of his building, smoking a cigarette, when he saw her. He put the cigarette out and went over to greet her.
“Hey, kid, you sure you’re okay?” He asked, though her tear-stained cheeks couldn’t hide what she was really feeling.
“Ya, I just, I don’t think I am college material.”
“It’s okay,” he said, putting an arm around her and leading her to his apartment, “you don’t have to be.”
He was the only one that could understand that. Her whole life she had parents who had told her she was going to go to college. They didn’t offer any other options. They used to point out the people waving signs on the side of the road and say, “See, that’s why you are going to college.” They didn’t understand that ambition didn’t necessarily equate to a college degree. Chase wasn’t going to college.
“It’s just, what am I going to do without college?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t you always have the dream of being a phlebotomist?”
She’d forgotten about her dream. She was too focused on the dream of others to remember that she had had a dream, but she had. She was planning on going to vocational school to become a phlebotomist, but when she told her parents, they gave her a look that said, “if you do, we’ll disown you.”
“It’s just, everyone is going to be so disappointed.”
“I won’t be,” he said, unlocking the door to his apartment. He didn’t tell her that he really was disappointed. Here was a girl who had the whole world going for, tuition being paid for by her parents, never going to have to worry about debt or anything and she was throwing it away, while he was living paycheck to paycheck until he could get a second job to pay for community college since his parents had kicked him out for no reason other than he was now 18 and no longer had to be their responsibility.
She almost seemed to give his apartment a look of disgust when she answered. What did she expect? Buckingham Palace? He didn’t understand why they stayed together. He loved her, but she was a spoiled brat and he knew that he would never be able to provide the life she has always wanted for her. He was never going to be the millionaire, he was probably never going to leave their hometown, he was never going anywhere in life. College was only a maybe right now and he wasn’t sure if he would ever be financially stable enough for that. He definitely wasn’t her dream guy, but she would never say.
She sat on the couch.
“Can I get you anything?”
“What do you have?”
“Instant coffee and top ramen.”
“Um, no thanks.”
She was hoping that he would at least have real food. Wasn’t it the college students who lived off of coffee and ramen? People in the real world were supposed to have real food. She didn’t want to say she was disappointed.
He came over and sat down next to her. “You sure you’re okay, kid? You don’t look okay.”
That was another thing that bothered her. He called her “kid.” What kind of pet name was kid? It made her feel so little and beneath him, like he was in complete control of her, like she couldn’t make the decisions she wanted to make. Her life was in his hands.
“Ya, Chase, I’m fine. I just needed to get away for a night. I just, I don’t know if I could go back. I don’t think I can do it, this college thing.”
“You’ve only been there a month, give it time. I’m sure it will get better.”
A month to her had felt at least like three. Had it really only been a month? How was she ever going to make it through four years of this? She didn’t think she ever would.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
“Calm down, of course you can.”
“No, Chase. I don’t think I can do this anymore, this long distance relationship thing.”
They’d been together for two years and now their relationship was on the line.
“Do you have a reason?”
“I just, I don’t know how to feel anymore. I don’t feel anything anymore. I don’t love you anymore and I can’t.”
It would have been better if she had another reason or had said she wanted to see other people, but to say she was breaking up with him because she was apathetic to life? It just wasn’t fair.
“Why are you here?”
“I wanted to have one more night to be someone, anyone, in someone else’s eyes. One more night to be in love, to have someone care about me unconditionally.”
“You know, if we break up, I will still feel that way about you.”
They started to kiss and eventually moved into the bedroom, knowing that this would be the last time they would ever be together.
“I love you, kid.”
She never said it back that time. She was gone by the time he woke up the next day. He wondered how she could just leave like that. He loved her. That was that. They were so flawed that they were perfect together.
He never heard from her again.

Continuation of the Religious Power Struggle

Religious Power Struggle part 3

"Accepting the Truth"
No one else has ever made me feel so alive except for you. You have brought life back to me and pulled me closer to death all at the same time. And now that someone else is taking me away from you, it scares me. Another person is making me feel so alive and it’s so much better, yet so much scarier at the same time. To think that I am letting go of you completely and moving on into a possibility of a better life scares me.

For so long, I was immobile, not wanting to move, wanting to stay with you. You allowed room for mistakes, you were always there when I messed up and I never had to ask forgiveness from the things I did wrong. In fact, you pulled me into sin, making me feel more alive, dragging me closer to death. I don’t think that was the life I wanted.

I’m scared.

Looking at the new face and seeing the potential for good things to prosper, I am scared. I want to turn and run right back to you, but it isn’t right. It isn’t right. I am going to leave you so many miles away, escape the grip you have over me.

Religious Power Struggle Part 2

Part two of the religious power struggle. If you really want the story behind it, ask me sometime.
I actually wrote this before the "metaphorically speaking" part

This part is called "Confession"

Conversations run in my head. I try to hold onto every last word between us. Why do I feel this way? I’m not supposed to feel this way. I’m not one to fall in love. I’m not one to fall in lust either. You contradict my morals. You contradict my religion. You contradict my faith. You contradict me. But I have never wanted someone more. Never craved someone more. Never needed someone more. I’m stuck wondering, how can this happen to me?
This must be a test of faith. Yes, that’s what it is. God is testing me to see how strong my strength in Him is. But for you, I would give Him up. I would give up the world, my hopes, my dreams. I would give up life for one night with you.
I want so badly to let go. But I can’t.
I’m a marionette. Lifeless. Being pulled back to you with strings. Telling people I no longer care. Watching my nose grow every time I tell myself I am over you. Let go of your hold over me. Cut the strings. Let me move on, grow up, grow old. Without you in my life.
You’re poison. Deathly. Cleaning out my insides of the good and filling them with toxins, until all that’s left of me is you.

The Office (no, not the tv show)

This is loosely based on a true story. When I say loosely I mean loosely... I shouldn't even say that. maybe I should just say, based on emotions? what this is based on didn't even take place in an office. okay, storyline is partially true. I don't even know how to explain it.... wait, I did have a second period English class, one true thing. They all thought my name was Jill...? I guess that is better than Stephanie being, "wait, your name isn't DeLacy?"

This used to be part of a bigger story. This scene has been toyed around with soooo many times, and when I eventually found a working draft of the bigger story, this just didn't fit anymore... the girl in this story ends up not being the main character and she ends up being a biotch, who ends up going crazy and the guy ends up being a loser jerk. In the original, she was the cute little naive girl sitting in the office and he was the sweet as can be guy. No, how they ended up in the actual working draft is not how the people the characters are based on ended up in real life...

oh, religious power struggle part 2 is coming soon... and part 3...




The Office

It's kind of funny how immature high school kids actually are. Even the smart ones. Everyone always thought I was one of the more mature ones, when in reality, I was one of the most immature ones.

The day when this all starts is no exception to my immaturity. Mitch Cavanaugh, the (hot) office aide, came in to my chaotic second period English classto bring one of those notes that gets people out of class because they are in trouble. My entire class, being the extremely nosey kids that we were, all watched the teacher scan the name on the paper and stand up. We watched her every move, trying to figure out who she would be delivering it to before it was actually delivered.

She seemed to be walking towards Melissa (obviously, it had to be her. It has been rumoed that she was the one doing donuts on the baseball field) and the teacher shocked us all when she walked right by her.

So, then, the only other obvious suspect that was in Melissa's general section was Steven (the kid who always got caught smoking pot). But the teacher walked by him too.

The teacher got closer and closer to me until it became obvious that she was going to stop at my desk. I could feel my heart beating super fast as I tried to recall anything that I had ever done wrong. All I could think of was that Freshman year I had chewed gum in band, but I doubted that is what I could be getting into trouble for.

I figured the slip of paper could just be informing me of a fine that I had forgotten about or something. It all depended on the box on the paper. If it said, "at teacher's convenience," (which no one had ever actually seen that box checked) it meant that I wasn't in trouble, but if it said "at once," (which is the only box that I'd ever seen checked) it would mean I was in trouble.

She dropped the paper on my desk. The box that said, "at once," was checked. I was shaking. For a second, I thought the teacher just didn't know my name because I was the quiet kid in the back, but I glanced down at the paper and, sure enough, the name written on it was mine, Lexeigh Carter. I picked up my bags and started to head out of the classroom.

My heart pounded and I could feel tears forming as I left the classroom. What the hell had I done wrong?

I saw the office aide and I ran in an attempt to catch up with him.

"Mitch, do you know what this is in regards to?" I frantically asked.

"It probably means you did something wrong," he said, thinking. "But if you don't know what it is, I am sure it's no big deal. Probably something minor. Hey, don't I know you from somewhere? You look familiar."

"No, I don't think we have officially met, but I'm Lexeigh. I know you because you are the office aide and everyone knows the office aide." I consider sarcasm my strong point. Unfortuanately, people don't see me as a sarcastic person because I have that "serious look." I knew Mitch because I'd gone to school with him since kindergarten.

"Oh, ya, huh." It's really sad that he believed that people knew him solely because he was the office aide. "Well, Lexeigh, I am sure it's nothing. Don't freak out, it's okay."

We were now at the office. I glanced at the uncomfortable blue seats that were meant for the troublemakers to sit and wait in. These were the chairs me and Emma had named the "troublemaker seats," before vowing to never sit in them. Here goes that friendship down the drain.

There was one other kid in the "troublemaker seats." He had his hood pulled over his head, his sleeves over his hand, and his music was way too loud. But it was good music, Linkin Park's "Papercut."

I figured I might as well make conversation while I was here, so, I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote, "I like Linkin Park too," and passed it to this kid sitting next to me in the "troublemaker seats."

He read it and then looked up at me, took his hood off and smiled. It was a smile I will surely never forget. I can't even describe it, but it was amazing because it was genuine, which is rare to come by in this world anymore. I am not even going to deny it, I knew based on that smile that I had feelings for him and he hadn't even spoken yet.

He pushed up his sleeve and stuck out his hand to introduce himself. "Chase."

I shook his hand. "Lexeigh."

He handed me an earbud just in time for the song, "Numb," to come on, which just happens to be my favorite song.

We sat there just listening and enjoying the music until the principal came out of the office with a very stern look on her face and said, "Chase. My office now. Lose the ipod."

Hey took his other earbud out and handed me his ipod. "Here, Lex, hold onto it. It will just gaurantee that I have to see you again."

All I could say in that moment was, "Hey, the name is Lexeigh." I guess my manners left me when I sat in the troublemakers seats.

The counselor called me into his office. He explained that he was new and just wanted to introduce himself to all of the students he would possibly be working with. I asked him why he checked the "at once" box. He chuckled and said that it was completely by mistake. But I can't help but wonder: was it a mistake or was it fate?

Later, back in second period English, Steven asked me what I did wrong.

"Everything and nothing at the same time."

Metaphorically speaking - You Just Stabbed My Heart

The crush is a relapse. It pulls you back when you try to let go, offering less and less comfort every time. But it keeps you from loneliness, anything that keeps you from loneliness, right? Until it offers no more comfort, until you can be lonely with him. I am lonely with him. I used to think we’d be able to conquer the world, but now I don’t want to face the world with him. I honestly just want him for a night, know what we could have been, then let go. Until then, I can’t let go, I can’t let go. I have never felt that way about someone before. I can’t let you go. You try to cut me loose, but it’s impossible. You question everything about me, pull me down to your level and I just want to be in the comfort of your arms. You drag me away from everything, and I am okay with life just being you. And that is so wrong, but it feels so right. Why do you have to feel so right? Let me go. I know you don’t control it and if you could, you wouldn’t even know me, but let me go, let me go. Let this churning in the pit of my stomach stop. Let me stop caring. Let me go, I was never yours and I never will be and I can’t accept that. I am trying to rip myself away from you, but my heart stays with you and I can’t live without the beat of my heart so it forces me to run back to you. I can’t live without you. You are where my heart is. And I know you can live without me and it’s not fair, it’s not fair that you can live without me while I am stuck in this cringing pain miles away from you, barely holding on because I can’t survive without my heart. Try it sometime. Leave your heart with someone else and try to survive. How do you get your heart back without confrontation? I can’t get my heart back until you see it, turn it inside out, I don’t care if you break it, just notice it. Notice my heart, give it back, let me move on. Let me survive in this world without you.

And right when I think I can forget you, you remind me of your existence and say the words I need to hear, you always say the right thing, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach starts up again. Goosebumps surround my body, an extra shield that makes it harder for my heart to get back inside me. It just makes it easier for you to keep. Wish you weren’t so oblivious to it, but you are. Or maybe you aren’t, but you want to be. Maybe I’m not worth your time, maybe I am just fooling myself. Maybe you will never notice me in the way I want you to notice me. Maybe I am just wishing way too hard.

You bastard, you just stabbed my heart.



Okay, explanation: Basically an excercise from creative writing gone wrong... I didn't completely follow directions, there were supposed to be actual characters and not just emotions, but I loved what I wrote and have no idea what I could ever use it for, so, I thought I would share.
By the way, this isn't about a guy. It's about a power struggle of my faith, but it's kind of difficult to explain....

Poetry by Brittany

A poem by Brittany for her creative writing class:

Butterfly

Symmetrical wings flutter by,
An orange and black blur just wandering,
Appreciating all of the trees and flowers the world has to offer.
Glistening in the sunlight
No one stops to observe its true beauty.
It lives peacefully, like we all should.

Using its proboscis,
It drinks the sweet nectar from nearby daisies,
Making its beauty stand out more.

While delicately flying fast through the air,
It remains silent to express appreciation,
Showing respect to the true artist of the world.

It has gone through the transformation,
Completely broken out of its shell,
And now it has a life to live.

Like a tourist,
It soars through the day’s beautiful breeze,
Weaving its way through buildings, fields, and people,
Appreciating the new life,
Living a life we all should be.