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Late.
I don’t want to be the last one to arrive,
Not when I’m the butterfly within this beehive.
They like to say keep the outsiders out,
And the insiders all about.
They keep their hive on a first name basis,
But when you’re a butterfly there can be no stasis.
In this world we have our bees.
They are the ones who constantly aim to appease.
Then there are the butterflies.
They are the ones who are small in number but can easily pulverize,
But they don’t.
They don’t because they won’t.
It’s not of their nature to hate those who keep them on the outside.
They don’t want to make a divide.
They just want a little of the inside.
But that’s too much to ask from the bees.
Upon their hearts they hold the keys,
Like daggers that would attack with the slightest breeze.
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