Consistency

They tell me that I am a butterfly

Whose life starts out ugly,

Who sulks and crawls.

They say the time I’m in now,

This state of “limbo,” per say,

Is merely my time of transformation

In a dark, confusing cocoon.

They say that soon,

So soon,

I’ll be beautiful and free.

I’ll emerge from the dark to gracefully fly.

Sounds nice.

But if they really knew me,

They’d know I’m not a dainty little butterfly,

No.

I’m a fucking fire.

The match was struck when you refused to hear me,

The confusion only pouring more gasoline.

My past may have been ugly,

but I have never not been beautiful.

I am a beautiful, raging, fucking flame.

And I’ll burn it all down,

With the heat in my chest,

Until you can say that you care.