He is the buttlerfly man
He is my greatest fan
He shows me all that he can
About how he works his magical hand
He catches them
And prepares them
He says they are his gems
He puts them in his collection
He says it is for their own protection
I am wondering if it is good
To be pinned to his slab of wood
To be protected when you are dead
Wouldn’t it be better to be free instead?
No never-ending protection
No eternal preservation
You might be all pretty pinned down to the wood
It might make you look everlastingly good
But where are the birds, and where are the trees?
Where is the sunshine, and the ever so slight breeze?
You are under displayed glass, so that all can see
The remnants of who you used to be
The butterfly man tells me all of this with glee
How he collects, protects, arrays and displays
He tells me this with his eyes all ablaze
It is something that really does amaze
I can see that he enjoys sharing his craft with me
There is only one slight problem for me, you see
I am the butterfly…she said with a sigh
Feeling that somewhere, there was a lie
Feeling ever so slightly a little awry
And soon I will be pinned down forever
Is the butterfly man really my protector?
Or someone whom is the bearer of terror?
JANE Á PARIS
Copyright ©2008 JANE Á PARIS
BUTTERFLY MAN
This is about perspective, relationships and power. It is about cages, and whether those cages are good for us or not. It is also about games people play, and hidden fears.