Fly

 Fly

All my friends were once pupae, too

Penurious and curious, long, long ago

We shared similar dreams and yearned for the same leaves

There was even a time we prayed and said sorry for our sins

It was only recently that the world decided that

They were sloths of time; unable to catch up

To butterflies who soar above planted burdens.

Clouds were present each day, unlike my friends

Because they have become butterflies

Who will die if they don't fly.

I cry, but everybody is too busy showing off their beautiful wings,

Yet I am still building my Chrysalis,

Amid the agonizing pace of time, I move unwillingly;

I don't want to fly yet.

(I am merely a pupa)