A Butterfly Dies
When we first find love
It's like a beautiful butterfly
We grasp it tightly in both hands
Over joyous in our love
Racing around showing everyone
But the deeper in love we go
The tighter our grasp becomes
Until one day we open your hands
To find that love has died
We have killed it our lovely butterfly
As we wail trying to understand
Why if love gives us life
So why do we now have a dead butterfly?
How did we become loves executioner?
How did this love die?
Without realizing it we slowly suffocated
Our love squeezing every last breath out of it
Until we were left with a dry out husk
Of what love once was
So when you do find love and grasp it in both hands
Hold on tight but gently given love a changes do breathe
So it will always be a beautiful fluttering butterfly