Nightmare Neverland

The way you started this poem immediately got my attention. The part you said "ironic equal that's darker"
I loved it. Going further the way you also used butterfly as the main idea is delightful.
First part of the poem you were all about the joy that comes from the butterflies.
"Everything I know has an ironic equal that’s darker

And more damaging.

I construct butterflies in their many forms

In my everyday life.

I fold origami butterflies when I’m bored at work,

I doodle butterflies on my pages when I’m through with school,"
Then going further you made us realize it wasn't actually joy or happiness. The butterflies gave you a false image (the part you talked about being fooled by their welcoming hands) which in reality takes more from you.
The part you said I fear the butterfly that takes my soul won't be ascending to heaven
Just put a complete lock on the poem
This was a good job

Oohhhh MATE I love this!! The way you use something seen as so innocent and pure and initially detail its purity before distorting it in the same way it's been distorted in your mind - fantastic. The effect is beautiful, and the flow of the whole poem is lovely.

Everything I know has an ironic equal that’s darker

And more damaging.

I construct butterflies in their many forms

In my everyday life.

I fold origami butterflies when I’m bored at work,

I doodle butterflies on my pages when I’m through with school,

I’m friends with people that assume the appearance of faeries;

Agonizingly beautiful and addictingly attractive.

Butterflies and faeries are childish, I know.

But they’re beautiful and free and freeing.

I read a book once where a butterfly

Collected the soul of a fallen soldier,

Bringing it to heaven.

A beautiful butterfly, ascending from death.

I get adrenaline surges at the simplest things.

When I’m happy, I get the butterflies.

When I’m sad, I get the butterflies.

When I’m angry, I get the butterflies.

But the longer I hold onto them, the more it starts to hurt.

I cling to them, so delicately.

They make me feel so light and so loved.

But these butterflies have teeth,

They cause anxiety and heart palpitations.

They carve me from the inside out.

These faeries are forbidden, but I still try to be their friends.

Their magic is dark, but I’m fooled by their welcoming arms.

I fear the butterfly that collects my soul,

Won’t be ascending to heaven.

But I can’t stop myself

From pursuing this Nightmare Neverland.

The person you are writing about seems to be unhealthily addicted to something. It may be drugs, a toxic person, or perhaps they are struggling with something else like anxiety. Even when they are happy, they are anxious. Even when they are sad they are anxious. Even when they are angry they are anxious. They always feel anxious, they feel butterflies in their stomach every time they are anxious. They begin feeling butterflies all the time because they are always anxious. They do not know how to stop feeling anxious. Perhaps they have gotten addicted to the medication they have been given for their anxiety and do not know how to stop taking them. The medication makes them feel like a kid again. All they desire is to be an innocent child again. They long for the freedom that comes with being a small child. They want to be a kid forever and never grow up. But due to responsibilities that come with growing up, they are forced to grow up. And soon they begin contemplating death.

Hello Jasperbiscuitt, I hope this finds you well.


"Everything I know has an ironic equal that's darker/ and more damaging."

It is funny how even in the bright things in life there is always a damaging, hurting part separate from its darker partner. How we always try to wound and worm them into our existence, always shaped in the form of something devastatingly beautiful.

"But the longer I hold onto them, the more it starts to hurt."

Mindblowing how those butterflies, those beautiful catastrophes can be the molding bookmark marking the firsts in one's life, a first love, first hate, first fear, firsts that never seem to cease in their multitudes. Mindblowing how that treasured bookmark can hurt you, the first love that shattered your heart, the first hate being a truly misunderstood soul, a first fear that could very well lead you to your last. We want to, so badly, hold onto all of those firsts and hurts, praying if we treat them well they will stay. Because the light and love they gave never felt the same as the rest, but the pain in the lashes they doled out did.

"But these butterflies have teeth/ They cause anxiety and heart palpitations.
They carve me from the inside out."

It could almost be said that these butterflies never started out this way, maybe they grew this way. Could be that they always were that way but they hide, such wonderful devious creatures they are to hide the fangs they plan to use to rip you to shreds. To carve you with horrid mentalities of what you think you are, instead of what the mirrors paint you to be. And as forbidden and painful all of this is, we crave their morning colors and their shadowed nights, foolish we may be to want to be welcomed into the poison they swaddle us with.

It will always seem that whenever and however we shall go, it's said we won't go quietly into the night, but somedays won't it be nice to go into the beautiful frights, butterfly poison a welcoming sight.


All in all, this poem was quite nice. A few things I would suggest a revision on, a slight rewording if anything.

"But they're beautiful and free and freeing."

I can see how this flows nicely, definitely feels nice in the flow for the moment. The redundancy however was maybe something that we could change. As far as the ending punctuations, some have commas and others don't. Is that to represent a continuation in the sentence or a break?

Either way, it was a pleasant read.

Keep creating masterful art, and always dance in the rain when things seem hard.