There was a darling little lady bug, smooth as the cloudless sky,

Who ought to be at home resting, but she never was the type,

To lay down all her dreams, and forget them for the night,

As if the humming in her head was nothing but a lie.

She told the flowers in the park about a better world,

Where everyone was equal and everyone was strong,

But the flowers only laughed at her, and told her she was wrong,

She couldn’t be serious, she couldn’t be real,

Equality had never been that big a deal.

She didn’t use her wings for the longest time,

Because, unbeknownst to her, she had lost the will to fly,

The flowers had withered on November’s approach,

And they did not question the order of things;

They simply did as the environment pleased,

Lowering their petals, frowning a bit,

But never speaking up against the evil in it.

The sun was setting; the moon would soon shine,

And the stars would crash down enough to light up the sky,

The order of things told the ladybug to go close her eyes,

Her heart wanted more, but her mind said, “No,

There is nowhere else for you to go.”

The frail little ladybug, rocked with the tensions of a dream,

Remembered about thoughts she had, and knew they would never be,

She tossed them to the gutter, and blocked the ideas aside,

The humming in her head had been nothing but a lie.