Butterfly
A dainty string around my ankle
Keeps me from freedom’s flight
I cannot stray to far away
Neither by day or night.
I struggle and strain against the reign
But all my efforts are wasted
I’m pulled back down, back to the ground
Away from flight only tasted.
Into a jar I’m trapped and jailed
The lid screwed on ever tight.
Small air holes supply some sense of love
But I’m placed on a shelf every night.
