A butterfly hanging on the wall
With its wings clasped together
Hiding its beauty from all
With its feet arranged together
Trying to hang on and not fall

Weaken by days with no food
Finding itself with no mood
Dreaming for the open sky
Where it can be free to fly
Along with the nightingale
But everything is off to no avail

Because the soul neglects its own need
Suffering in pain, trying not to cry
But others don’t realize their misdeed
For a butterfly, truly belongs to the sky