Like a Monarch Butterfly

In the pit of my bloody stomach, beneath all the organs and intestines,

Lays a bottled up monach butterfly, it's value true, it's value mine...

The top of this lid is sealed tight, away from any cold breaths of sunlight...

Hidden it rids people of all this temptation,

Though, the glass is see through, its misty of all imagination..

It's wings are a delicasy, of colour and moral,

In the smokey veins of its skin, hides my misery, my empty sorrow.

All this pain I'm going through, and your dead, not here, but this butterfly is you...

And although it's meaning is imortal, I can die,

It's this monarch butterfly, that flew me to look deeper into the colours of the sky...

But right now as I stare down at your empty grave stone, I cannot lie,

The monarch butterfly in me long ago died,

Now, all I have left are these tears of red blood that I cry...