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.


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