Sometimes I feel like I was dropped on the wrong planet, born into the wrong species.
I am a butterfly among birds, living trustfully by the lessons I received at birth.
I flutter instead of soar. I chase rainbows instead of treasure.
With reverence for the wind and warmth, I swoop and swirl among the flowers.
I bear no claws. I don’t bother protecting my wings and neck. I never change color; I am proud to be compared to the sunrise.
And if I am to be bitten, if I am to be scooped up as prey, that day I go down I will not pity my looping trajectory, but rather the life of the terrible creature that interrupted my flight.
In my final moments of consciousness, as I peer out at a small patch of sky from the belly of a beast, I will cry and smile as I am devoured, knowing the jealousy of my path, still loving the bird, and mourning the absence of my bright colors.