Pretty Girls Die

Pretty Butterfly

                                                     Here lies the pretty butterfly.

                    Pretty girls die.

                                                                       Pretty butterfly.

   Pretty girls die.

                                           I paint my lips red;

                         smoke your cigarette.

                                                                   Drink champagne,

                                  hiking up the skirt a bit higher,

                                                                         higher,

                                           and higher.

                                                                        So I can fly.

Because pretty girls die,

                                                  here lies the pretty butterfly,

             feeling high…

 

P.S

Poem is dedicated to a friend who is moving across the world. Her feminist talk and story about her unsuccessful dating life always made me laugh. I miss her so much already.  She has one of the biggest heart I’ve ever known.  It’s unfortunate that feminism has a bad connotation.  Feminism doesn’t mean competing with the counterparts; it’s  about complementing one another and celebrating our differences.  There are bigger things to worry about than fighting between the sexes. In truth, I think everyone just wants to feel appreciated and loved.

[To my friend] I hope you find happiness and love in the next chapter of your life.  You are like a beautiful flower that brings things to life.