Do not forget.
Give peace and do not fret.
You and I both still lack.
Even in your heart, I can’t hack.
It is not okay.
Yet I wish you always stay.
Hold my hands tightly.
It’s just, “I’m sorry.”
To my heart, I want you to knock.
Even then, I wish you back.
Let’s turn back the time.
This thing we have, don’t grime.
As you hold my hand,
the gesture removes anything bland.
And as you touch my cold cheeks,
I suddenly found what I seek.
It’s you, my butterfly.
There is no goodbye.
This time I cry.
I will meet you when it is my turn to fly.
© Beast’s Butterfly
“I’m sorry, my butterfly.”
In life, in any essence, we feel like failures.
Let’s create more beautiful memories than destroying the moments.
In time, there’ll be peace. In time, there’ll be this little bliss we’ve always longed for.
To the butterflies of our lives, fly. To the butterflies of our lives, be free.