Yes, suck me dry
Mr. Butterfly.
Unlike you, I'll never soar.
I can hardly pick myself up off the floor.
I'm just a flower
And my fragrant power
Is destined to be plucked.
The nectar I am 'blessed' with shall be sucked.
It goes to the butterflies
Who have the ability to fly,
While I still lay on the ground
Unable to make a sound,
Because I've finally been drained,
My mind has finally be sprained.
There's not a person who can help me now;
But why on earth should they allow
Me to continue to live
When I've got too much to give?
Go on, Mr. Butterfly.
Suck me dry
Before my petals have turned to the sun,
And I have finally won.
Please, Mr. Butterfly.
All I'm good for is to die.
Drain me of this useless blood,
Kick me into the mud.
Do whatever you wish with me.
I'm through with eternity.
Go on, Butterfly.
Drain me.
love poems anonymous