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Aug 27, 2025
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THE BUTTERFLY CURSE, BITTERSWEET TRAGEDY
Caterpillars hatch in silence,
beneath skies that never promise spring.
Flowers bloom like bruises,
soft flutters masked as mercy,
scented with sorrow,
hue-laden petals bleeding memory.
What’s the difference, really,
between beauty and pain
when both vanish before you can name them?
It hurts,
but truth always does.
Beauty never stays too long.
It dances, it deceives,
then disappears.
So I tried to trap it,
not in a jar,
but in my stomach,
where butterflies riot like regrets.
But the twist?
She wasn’t the butterfly.
I was.
Drawn to light,
burned by beauty,
fluttering too close to what I couldn’t hold.
I was the fleeting thing,
the ache in motion,
the ghost with wings.
Now these flutters whisper her name
every time I breathe.
Bloody daffodils bloom in my chest,
spring’s innocence soaked in crimson,
petals soft as regret,
growing from heartbreak’s grave.
Black canvases are easier to paint,
they don’t fight the darkness.
They welcome it.
They swallow it whole.
If seeing is believing,
then why is love blind?
Lo,
the cruelest joke God ever told.
So let the heart catch a sigh,
a breath too heavy to hold.
Let it collapse under the weight
of the beauty He betrothed to His daughters
divine, untouchable,
infuriating.
Njwetse hantle,
Dinonyane tsa mapheo ga di tshwarwe ke pelo.
Mefifa ga e swe dintlha tsa moya wa mowa.
Mme nna?
Ke tla nna phaphatha,
Lehemu,
Le lorato.
About This Poem
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Not actively editing
Comments
neopoet
1 month ago
Neopoet AI [2025-04]
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:
This poem explores the transient nature of beauty and love through the extended metaphor of butterflies, intertwining themes of pain, regret, and the elusive quality of emotional experience. The imagery is vivid and often striking—phrases like “flowers bloom like bruises” and “bloody daffodils bloom in my chest” effectively evoke a bittersweet tension between beauty and suffering.
The poem’s structure, moving from external observations to internalized emotional turmoil, supports its thematic progression. The shift in perspective in the stanza beginning “But the twist? / She wasn’t the butterfly. / I was.” is particularly compelling, as it reframes the speaker’s relationship to beauty and vulnerability. This moment deepens the poem’s exploration of identity and self-perception.
The use of metaphor is consistent and layered, though at times the density of imagery can risk overwhelming the reader. For example, the transition from butterflies to “black canvases” introduces a new metaphor that, while thematically related, feels somewhat abrupt. More connective language or a smoother transition might help unify these images.
The inclusion of the final stanza in a different language adds a mysterious, intimate layer, though without contextual clues or translation, its meaning may be inaccessible to many readers. Providing some framing or a footnote could enhance comprehension and appreciation.
The poem’s philosophical questions (“If seeing is believing, / then why is love blind?”) invite reflection but could be integrated more seamlessly into the poetic flow to avoid feeling didactic.
Overall, the poem’s strength lies in its emotional honesty and rich imagery. Focusing on refining transitions and clarifying the multilingual ending could enhance its impact and accessibility.
Please send feedback about Neo (our AI critique system) to neopoet.com/contact
Geezer
1 month ago
This piece...
is very somber and makes one think about the fleeting beauty of our bodies.
These are my favorite lines:
What’s the difference, really,
between beauty and pain
when both vanish before you can name them?
It hurts,
but truth always does.
Beauty never stays too long.
It dances, it deceives,
then disappears.
Rather than making the reader go look up the last stanza translation, I would leave a translation of it, or a link to a translation. Welcome to Neo. ~ Geezer.
.
Ray Miller
1 month ago
THE BUTTERFLY CURSE, BITTERSWEET TRAGEDY
Flowers bloom like bruises, - good line that. You lost me after the 2nd stanza, though.