Their once naive euphoria

Prompted from accompanying their mom to the store 

Or exploring the unexplored 

Is now crushed as “autumn” approaches

Now the world has lost its mortala...

For it was asphyxiated by expectations that were ever so callous

Remains of a so called "autumn" are only malice

                                                                      malice

                                                                         malice

Papillons only soar for an ephemeral

In the sky they soar, leaves have fallen

Now left to live the same fate as every other 

The harsh winter numbs thy senses 

Consciousness now has consequences

Forever trapped in the paradox of "the right way to live"

Causing minds to churn bland 

The end of "autumn" brings forth pretenses 

It seemed as though their wings had perished 

No signs of individual merits

Papillons struggle against their ruined merits

But meliorist paved themselves a presence

They became the "lord and savior" of the mundane 

Instilling a challenge against their immobility

Thus giving vitality to the humane

The wingless papillons with no place, found optimism

As “autumn” has passed so will winter

This realization served as a trigger

The papillons have emerged from being submerged 

Yet they still cannot fly

Although spring is creeping on the field of humanity 

Although color is cutting into mundanities 

Although they are gaining their sanity

Although bandwagon is replaced with vanity

Although wings are no longer restricted 

The papillons memoirs serves as a velleity 

An impending reminder that can never be surpassed