• There she stands,
    So far away,
    Searching for a place,
    In which she may stay.
    She's longing for a purpose,
    A reason to push on.
    A person, perhaps, who might
    Help her
    To right her every wrong.
    She longs to be free,
    As well as he,
    And soar across the skies.
    Like a butterfly, she wants
    To take wing,
    And fly.
    She'll try her best.
    Work herself,
    To the bone.
    And never rest.
    She won't abandon hope,
    No matter the obstacle,
    Or the length of the rope.
    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
    But in order for this butterfly,
    To spread her wings and be free,
    She must soon realize,
    That she
    Is me.