Sitting outside with the cool fall air brushing against my face, I watch the monarchs float effortlessly in the sky
Trying to find their way to warmer weather that is only just now fleeting us.
Some are lost in that time, broken wings deciding their destiny
But in the eyes of those who watch, they will always be beautiful
They resemble the strong, fighting for their lives
And they don't lack the purpose that they might feel is leaving them.
While I watch them, I can't help but to think that though they are broken,
They sing songs in the sky, songs for those who bare their chest and left empty handed.
That song hands the watchers courage and encourages them to not lose faith
For they are apart of your screen, the butterflies
And you are apart of theirs, the watchers
