The Butterfly Complex
From Genesis to Angeal
You compared me often to a butterfly, so very hard you tried
But every time you did, I felt so sick inside.
"Because they're beautiful?" I'd scoff, for I'd heard it all before,
But you shook your head and whispered so I'd listen all the more:
"You bury your sorrow, and you emerge anew each day."
I suppose that you were right, in a twisted sort of way.
I buried it so deeply; your arms were my cocoon.
But it festered in my heart, 'till insanity was opportune.
I turned away those nights so I could I hide my tears,
And let you go on believing I was stronger, without fears.
Do you know what they do to unlucky butterflies, Angeal?
They pin them up behind glass, so they can't breathe or feel.
They're stuck up on display, lined up like soldiers off to war.
When their wings should be beating, with the entire sky to soar.
Do you understand now, how true this is of me
Who was born under pretense, for the scientists to see?
You and I are butterflies, and the net's a whisper behind.
Stop this! What's the matter with you, are you blind?
If you had left me here, you might have spared yourself,
But you reached back and took my hand to save me from myself.
We're alone here now, and I can't tell dark from light,
But you just keep on holding me like everything's alright.
"I'm a monster." I try to jerk away, and your eyes turn watery blue.
"That's okay," you whisper, and white feathers fill the air…
"Because I'm a monster too."
(A/N: …...Goddamn poem. Made me choke up. Maybe it's just that fucking bad.)