All great things had small beginnings.
We constitute so many complex ideas and
Wonderful visions but sometimes we don’t do
Anything about it,
Like a caterpillar that’s safely in the
Shadows under the leaves.
We conceal ourselves from the world,
Refusing to take chances to peek out there.
Sometimes we refuse to let the world take a peek at
But why do we hide our own potential?
Our blue prints? Intentions? Ideas?
We aren't afraid of heights,
We're afraid of falling.
Our voices are our butterflies.
They’re of various colors, sizes, and shapes.
Every kind of butterfly is distinct.
Every voice counts.
The expansion of our minds will continuously
Grow like caterpillars that devour their days away
Until we at some point must do something with it,
So therefore metamorphosis occurs.
Not a day is ever granted.
That’s why we think caterpillars, but when we’re ready,
We speak butterflies.
We free our words and our minds by turning it into
Something beautifully original.
Soon enough there will be other people on the ground
Admiring our vibrant colors fluttering above them.