It seems cruel,
The old-fashioned art of pinning up butterflies on a board.
Perhaps it is still in fashion,
Though I wonder if it is not ironic,
For we people do the same.
We plaster others for their beauty on whichever things,
To immortalize them.
But often not for themselves, but for us –
To admire, desire, and above all, envy.
Creating a spectacle out of them.
To analyze, examine, to understand:
Why do we not look the same?
Ah yes, butterflies on a board and people are much the same,
Hung up, left to dust.
To wither away over what they were once valued for.
Author Bio:
Angelina Chartrand developed a passion for writing ever since she was young, finding a love and admiration of written form to convey and cultivate her creative ideas, which range anywhere from the surrealistic to the macabre.
The old-fashioned art of pinning up butterflies on a board.
Perhaps it is still in fashion,
Though I wonder if it is not ironic,
For we people do the same.
We plaster others for their beauty on whichever things,
To immortalize them.
But often not for themselves, but for us –
To admire, desire, and above all, envy.
Creating a spectacle out of them.
To analyze, examine, to understand:
Why do we not look the same?
Ah yes, butterflies on a board and people are much the same,
Hung up, left to dust.
To wither away over what they were once valued for.
Author Bio:
Angelina Chartrand developed a passion for writing ever since she was young, finding a love and admiration of written form to convey and cultivate her creative ideas, which range anywhere from the surrealistic to the macabre.
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