By GABE ANDERSON, January 11, 2022
I thought I was a butterfly.
I thought I had beauty and grace.
With every flap of my wings,
I’d flaunt their shapes.
I’d fly with no worry.
I’d fly with no hate.
I’d fly with no goal.
I’d fly till daybreak.
As the sun sets,
I’d fly to a leaf.
I’d nibble on its green—
I’d eat and I’d eat.
When my stomach was full,
I’d rest on a tree.
With many other butterflies,
I’d fall soundly asleep.
One night I awoke.
I spread my magnificent wings.
I flew once again
To a song I used to sing.
I gazed at nature’s beauty.
I saw black, purple, and blue.
I flew happily.
My smile only grew.
Then, I noticed something strange—
Something out of place.
There was something wrong—
Like a smudge on a vase.
There were floating white dots—
They were different shapes and sizes.
I didn’t know what they were.
I didn’t know anything like it.
As I descended toward the dots,
They became clear and detailed.
These were not just dots.
But creatures that’d been jailed.
They were wrapped in thin string.
My eyes were traumatized.
I turned away quickly.
Suddenly, I was paralyzed.
I couldn’t move.
I was trapped on the strings.
Was this the end?
I couldn’t help but scream.
As I shook and shook,
I grew more tired.
My strength left me.
Then I saw the monster.
It had long thin legs
And eyes of death.
I screamed for help.
But my voice had left.
The monster crawled closer.
I squirmed left and right.
The dots stood still.
No one could fight.
It jumped on me.
I felt the fangs of poison.
My eyes rolled back.
My wings were contorted.
I was left as a dot,
Trapped in webbing.
There was no more beauty.
There was no more anything.
Then I realized,
As the strings wrapped tighter,
I was not the butterfly,
But I was the spider.
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