Butterflies

We all want to be
beautiful and sad
tragic little butterflies
driven quite mad.

Flying cross the boulevard
floating like a dream
desperate imitations
of what we cannot be.

Everybody wants to be a superstar
show the world how special
that they really are
everybody wants to be
beautiful and sad
depression and anxiety
the best accessory ever had.

We all want to be
beautiful and sad
tragic little butterflies
driven quite mad.

Everybody wants to be
Lana Del or Halsey
all the pretty stories but know
nothing of true suffering.

Everybody wants to be someone else
we all pretend we’re butterflies
while killing ourselves.

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