Sometimes I hold it tight
Sometimes I let it go
Life’s like a butterfly
That is never ready to fly
With the wind’s flow

It hops from flower to flower
Seeking the nectar called hope
I wait for it to settle down
Pause or sometimes go slow
Her wings are weak… shrivelled
For I had trapped her
Petted and made her live a porcelain life
Ready for the show
Until I realised, she was The Butterfly
Who loved to fly against the wind’s flow.