there was always the

thin line of silver shot

through the vibrant orange

orbs resting on the bed

of crimson it should have

spoke to you this is not

one like the others

this one has ideas about

itself butterflies in general

& the sky itself

you should have noticed

the slight quiver was a

vibration manifesting inner

force so strong it

could barely be contained

should have felt the craving

for flight so strong denial

would be death you

should have smelt the rain

on its breath knew it knew

about things you forgot

can never know need it

to tell you can’t stand to

hear refuse to know

will shatter from with

in if forced to overstand

the length breath

depth weight of it

you should have

recognized this one

was not like

the others