Butterfly with broken wings
Broken thoughts, hail to kings
That bring the mighty to their knees
Regardless of power, wealth, degrees
Regardless of age, rage
Regardless
The air singes all it touches
Smoke machines line the field
Like poison flowers, carbon yield
For wings were meant to burn
Or rot or turn
To useless things
To drag around
But we accept the fire
We praise the fire
We let the flames
Reach higher and hire
A handful of wisemen
To teach us to burn
To sit on our asses
And let the world turn
As it always has
Just sit back and enjoy the show
It’s filled with people that you know
And disregard and leave to die
The stifled psyche
Broken butterfly
A Life in Poems 