O Scorpion Butterfly, Why?

So soon back into your cocoon, dear butterfly,
But why when so quickly you die if you do not
Spread your wings and fly? Did you even try?
Ah, so you did but now you’ve hidden yourself
From what you think to be a cold, cruel world
Instead of being bold
And have you told yourself you’re now safer
Ensconced away in your shell? Who can tell?
But for awhile you flew, blew through the air
So free and fair, but couldn’t stand the glare
Of the light of truth that shows us what is ugly
As well as beauty; that illuminates our duty
As well as how we may play in the bright day!
No, you hated this so you baited others
To sing your praise and so to amaze you
With adoration for your self-adulation . . .
It was contrived exaltation
In a pitiful self-idolization!
Then did someone dare tell you an awful truth
That clipped your wings? Did they fail to sing
Of your charm and beauty and harm your ego?
Is this why you retreated from this world
And reseated yourself in your ity cocoon?
By why now do you fly out at night to bite
At ones who befriended you? So very trite!
So ghostlike to strike at them then hide again
To begin planning your next covert assault,
But is it really their fault that you fell
After so many honest warning bells?
And tell me, what do you really gain
By trying to cause pain to bygone friends,
In your churning and burning, to try staining
Unsullied reputations caused by disputation
Within your own soul with an unfilled hole?
Nothing . . . you do not even please yourself
In trying to appease your anger and grief
That came from so brief an early sojourn!
You chose your cocoon, again, dear butterfly,
And so do you die because you will not fly,
But do not blame your shame on all others –
On me – for what you have now chosen to be!

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