The Rise ~
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I wringed too soon, I faced through the moon...
The carcass of oblique mesmerization rotting out...
In this aura of dreams, arches out a silver spoon...
I laid breathless across gravity's whereabout...
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Pitched over the blue amber preserving my spirit...
Nonetheless, an immortal soul left to cry...
The thawing of my demandable being to exhibit...
Unfolds the rise of the broken butterfly...
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Broke off, slithered off, the ruins of my previous shell...
A hermitt out to walk the glass tiles of the natures overture...
When the intruder realized too soon, a word he just fell...
A code out to dismantle my flower, ought to eerily torture...
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I looked back over my deviated past of unforunate onyx...
Gripped, pulverized in my arm, never dared to live and try...
Never willed to be a crown jewel to the Egyptian sphinx...
But this uncluttered the rise of the broken butterfly...
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Taking what's not and taking what's mine...
I deeply gazed upon the wisdom of my assasination...
I never needed a reason to help out the line...
Nor bring up a staccato of worries through orchestration...
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Most likely in the moment of the scattered shards of truth...
Levitates the sharp glasses unvagued out to fly...
A scream out loud from an extent of pain to booth...
To avenge the rise of the broken butterfly...
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Now out to pay the price of my once eternal unimmortabibilty...
Rages the revenge towards the assimilation of my own ally...
I'd never dare to leave shattered pieces shattering my ability...
I'll show them to scavenge our past and retalliate and untie...
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Straight up my grasshopper, till' the mauve of the dawn shines...
Creek to the meek and drown the darkness till' they die...
The greens and the pastures shall remaster with the tall pines...
And reinvent the ultimate rise of the broken butterfly...
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Alleviate, disseminate, in the bare promises of my existence...
A word shown invisible needless needs to be unexistent...
As long as the belief of prevailance will shadow resilience...
The trueness and the character's fate will be resistent...
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My infinity though my body gains nought to flap...
I gain as I dwell under the wellings of the undry...
No undare of the thunder shall give out a clap...
Obliquely yawns the rise of the broken butterfly...
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Now I choose for the predestine of the defined 'messy'...
Shall I teach the spirit to fly and be free? Or just leave...
A soul to ascend out of ascension always has mercy...
Nonetheless gives out a chance to see and bereave...
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Together, I skip, I pick up my pace, grace of flight without deem grimace...
Unwilled to display a museum of antiques, I shall leave and I shall fly...
Leave these meer reflections as memories and ashes faded to phase...
No stop, I will, I will, I gratefully admire the rise of the broken butterfly...
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I laid, I sighed, I reminisced, I clinged to the soothing taste of the icy clouds...
A permafrost to the underside of tomorrow, high up to the frosts of the flakes...
A revolving catalyst in the aura of my mind, I shall evolve immortality's bounds...
I am who I am, a silvered golden impenetrable god of fun to spread and rake...
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Come by and go by until behind the ice building up on the cold surface...
My wings fling upon with potions of fun across the amethyst sky...
Watch the tables turn the turn tables with a handfull of joy, no haste...
Release my wrath of fun spirits through the rise of the broken butterfly...
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I am who I am, I smirk out the tense, I fall out with grace, No past up to retrace...
I turn my past into angels for heavens who are in need of these souls up high...
I rise, I evoke, I posses, I ignite, I transform into the frost bit winter spirit phase...
Then I chuckled throughout my reminiscence, I'm no longer a broken butterfly...
