a butterfly's defiance

this has been on my drafts for several years, now i get to publish it. consider me I've grown from this phase.

On a fire,

as it spreads minute by minute,

my small wings couldn't catch up

from fast-moving fires.

The monster was mad,

we needed to quick find shelter,

but the emotions ran stronger,

through their body,

it was burning,

burning rages of madness,

it could not contain.

I am small;

so vulnerable,

I may look beautiful as I spread my wings out,

but it is not anymore,

as my wings burnt lightly from the fires,

it covered part of it from beautiful colors to dust,

I lay there with damaged wings 

It was my downfall

My life's a short life cycle,

you may no longer fix what's already broken

I was missing huge portions of my wings, 

but I still managed to make short hops from flower to flower.

What's more interesting is that a battered butterfly can still fly unexpectedly well.

You do not expect me to lay there with no hopes of living

just because I was at the peak of my downfall.

No, silly.

A hope is a hope,

to quit is a quitter,

but my will to live

is the storm that shakes the skies,

defying weight against the world.