A butterfly with broken wings
is still a butterfly it seems
It cannot fly
Won't even try
Just lets these seasons pass it by
This butterfly who cannot fly
en route to a place to be
once spoke to me
I did not flee
Then it said to me: This pain it stings
Oh where are my wings
Could they not just let me be
Why would someone take them
Did they forget the joy it brings
When I am glistening while gliding softly within a breeze
Yet they seized what belongs to me
I can only hold it in my hand
Still I cannot understand
Yet I demand to know what happened to its wings