“Change is grim. Change is grey.”
Is what they all always say
But what happens to a larvae daring to change?
Does it transform or become something strange?
For a day too bright to turn to night,
Will miss the silver moon,
And winter refusing to transform to spring
Will skip the new leaves it brings
A Phoenix afraid to turn to ashes,
Will never rise again.
I’d always thought I was inept
A girl too usual, too imperfect
A girl so ordinary, afraid being strange
For I had always resisted change
But deep within my heart I knew,
I’d always loved the idea of new
Always considered myself a pest
Only good for ruining the best
Too faulty and too wry
But if you’d never dare to change,
How will you know you’re a butterfly?
You might not have the desire to change,
The caterpillars will speak of your oddity, so strange
You will wonder as you form your cocoon,
Will you become a butterfly soon?
They will want you normal of all things
But you will have wings.