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“A black butterfly, confused and mad, Stung at my hand, thinking it was bad. My hand, not mad, just curious and sad, Scared away the butterfly’s little mad attack, Leaving her to settle on a flower’s back. She looked like she had a new plan, no lack Of nerve or spunk in that little black pack.” — 3rd Degree Burn
A black butterfly, confused and mad,
Stung at my hand, thinking it was bad.
My hand, not mad, just curious and sad,
Scared away the butterfly’s little mad attack,
Leaving her to settle on a flower’s back.
She looked like she had a new plan, no lack
Of nerve or spunk in that little black pack.