Why do I survive
When the butterflies,
Each more beautiful and precious than me,
Live for only a year?

Is it because,
I can love?
But what has loving ever gotten me?
Disappointment and heartbreak.

I wish I was a butterfly,
To soar across my own small sky,
And die, after a year.
I wouldn’t have to love.
I wouldn’t have to cry.
Oh how I envy,
The butterfly.

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