Butterflies Aren’t just for Looks

The most vulnerable person I know tried to act tough sometimes. This is just a facade you see, for into the abyss of her mind lies rebuttles, defenses, and drive. You may think it serves well to have such positive perserverence, but you see this too presents as camouflage like a snake to a tree as you reach to pull the fruit, it remains in disguise. It truly is more afraid then you, smarter though it remains quiet. Too close you get and it must lash out with sharp poisonous teeth. Those teeth, so familiar yet an unfamiliar stranger, a dark shadow before you. What is hidden is locked, the key lost, the effort non existent.

The strongest person I know sometimes fell pray to a weakness. Even the strength of a thousand men can’t stop the force of the inevitable. Strength is both outward and inward, for the need is great but the rope short and the long miles before her seem forever.

The loudest person sometimes speaks in a silent whisper. To gain the unattainable recognition of those heads in the croud. The ones whos importance rains like snow on warm days. She draws focus to herself with ease for her beauty is noticeable and her words like thunder. Just like thunder draws the rain, she draws the eyes of the seasons. She wishes to hold the eyes of a queen but the queen too busy doing queen like things so she must dance around her abd entertain her until the queen is tied of doing queen like things.

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