.:Broken Butterfly:.

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Watch the Broken Butterfly
Look at her try and soar
But only I know
She cut her wings on a thorn
Trying so hard to fly
But in the end I know she’ll die
Paper like wings and long bloody thorns
Can’t you feel the pain she’s endured?
Her world falls to pieces
As the thorn rips her wing
Scarlet blood glimmers in my moonlit dreams
A dead butterfly
What a heartbreaking sight
So I toss a mournful rose onto her grave
But its thorn slit my hand
Now I understand why my little butterfly would silently cry
A slice so small - like a razor blade
But the pain so overwhelming
Didn’t want others to see
How she hurt inside
Wanting No one to know because none could understand
How a small cut could bring tears to her eyes
And blade marks to her neck
In this gruesome world
We are all the same
Dying to soon yet living to long
Because little broken butterflies
Just don’t belong.




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Points 102
Reviews 165
Hmm. I like it. And I get the metaphor: you're not discussing a butterfly, but a girl with a wounded spirit. Am I right?

But here's a little help for you. My corrections are in red, and my comments are in blue.

Watch the Broken Butterfly.
Look at her try and soar.<--- Think of poetry like any other written literature. Yes, it's in poetic format, but the sentence structure should remain the same.
But only I know
she cut her wings on a thorn.
She's trying so hard to fly <--- Again, standard sentence structure.
but in the end I know she’ll die.
Paper like wings and long bloody thorns...
Can’t you feel the pain she’s endured?
Her world falls to pieces
as the thorn rips her wing.
Scarlet blood glimmers in my moonlit dreams.
A dead butterfly,
What a heartbreaking sight.
So I toss a mournful rose onto her grave,
But its thorn slit my hand.
Now I understand why my little butterfly would silently cry:
A slice so small - like a razor blade -
But the pain so overwhelming.
She didn’t want others to see
how she hurt inside,
wanting no one to know because none could understand
how a small cut could bring tears to her eyes
and blade marks to her neck.
In this gruesome world
we are all the same,
dying to soon yet living too long,
because little broken butterflies
just don’t belong.


But other than that, I really did like it. It was very smooth, very descriptive. You captured every emotion skillfully. But still, my favorite is the metaphor. :wink:
"Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was given thee by prophecy, with the laying on of the hands of the presbytery." Timothy 4:14 KJV




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Thank you so much! Also, thanks for the help, I was having format issues. :lol:




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Hi there!

Actually, this poem was quite good. I liked the fact that you used a butterfly as a metaphor.

The only problems I had were:

1) Punctuation - Although some people may think that it's not important for a poem, it IS.

2) Line structure - Some lines were a bit too long, and kinda broke the poem's flow.
For example, the line:

Now I understand why my little butterfly would silently cry

You could write it as:

Now I understand why
my little butterfly would silently cry


Overall, nice job! I hope to see more from you soon.
Keep up the good work!
Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.



A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.
— Steve Martin