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