I'm the girl with the butterfly wings. Always been, always will be. It's not my fault, it's how they made me. They killed fifty girl before getting me right.
I've got big blue and black wings, with raven black hair. I just wish I could fly, because here all I'm doing is being pretty. I can't help it, it's how I am. I just make people fall in love. I love dancing around in the sunlight, wings flapping. Up there in the sky, I feel limitless. Except for the rope that tying me to the ground and the guy with the electric teasers who wants to dissect me. If I close my eyes and stop breathing in for a bit, I can imagine I'm in a beautiful meadow with all the others, and we're happy. But then I need to breath, 'cause otherwise I'll fall and the teasers will get me. And I take a breath of the horrible plastic odor, then I close my eyes again. I can almost feel the sunlight streaming beautifully through my butterfly wings, and that's how I live every day. The only thing keeping me alive is fictional. I just wish I was one of the failed ones. Death seems so much better than this.
Sometimes I kid myself that one day I'll be saved by a handsome prince. He'll take me away and he'll have wings too, so I won't feel like a freak next to him. I'll feel pretty and beautiful. I'll braid my raven black hair and wear pretty petal dresses, like I'm a fairy tale princess. But life's not a fairy tale, not here. Here it's hell, with more than a thousand people even the devil would fear. I want to run, to fly away.
Let me go!
Kind of depressive, huh? Inspired by River flows in you, by Yiruma. Review?