The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
The Boy Least Likely To
I find it difficult to
Relax in the summertime
With all the flowers in bloom
I creep across the countryside
With my net and my bait
And a pocketful of bailer twine
I break the promises I made
As I box up all the butterflies
I ruin
Everything
As I sit in a field of grass
In the spring
Listening
To the beat of its little heart
And to its wings
Struggling
For air under an upturned glass
And I put a pin
Through its wings
And I bottle it up
I box it up
And bury it in my heart
Just as I know my friends
I also know my enemies
Are the birds and the bees
And my own little insecurities
I creep around in the dark
And I tear up all the dandelions
And I break my own heart
As I box up all the butterflies
Tirelessly
Following
Its tiny butterfly tracks
Across the field in the spring
With a plastic carrier bag
Full of fish
Hooks, and string
I lay a little matchbox trap
And I put pin
Through its wings
And I bottle it up
I box it up
And bury it in my heart
I folded up its furry wings
And opened up its little heart
It might sound stupid
But something about it made me want to pull it apart
I ruin
Everything
As I sit in a field of grass
In the spring
Listening
To the beat of its little heart
And to its wings
Struggling
For air under an upturned glass
And I put a pin through its wing
And I bottle it up
I box it up
And bury it in my heart