Ressurect Bronze Butterflies

Weakly, for drained I am of every strength,
reach my tattered hands toward the sun,
for butterflies, and birds of white,
fly freely in the daytime light.

When I was a small shy child,
I used to sit alone outside,
I'd breathe so silently you see,
the butterflies would land on me.

Like whispers in my tearstained heart,
they'd fly around, bright rainbows in the sky,
they'd kiss my cuts, my scrapes,
healing the bruises of no shape.

They'd leave magic sparkles on my broken skin,
giving me happy memories of what could never be,
laughing, they'd tell me it's allright,
they're encouragement lasting through every night.

But now... I reach my hands up to their wings,
my mind blank of color, yearning happiness,
most of them fly away, so fast in fear,
yet one is fallen, staying near.

I call to it, a broken being,
hoping that something could love me,
but as my fingers brush it's crooked wings,
the ashes of a fire sings.

A pile of dust, is all that's left,
of the gorgeous creature there used to be,
please make another, just for me,
one out of bronze, that can fly free.

For a golden butterfly of bronze,
cannot break so easily as ones of light,
so please give me one that can fly,
a little girl didn't want to be alone when she'd cry.