box shaped mirror glass

when i was still a pure minded lil' kid 20 years ago, while living a carefree life style and having not even a single sense of distress in mind, life really is a butterfly.

the old Liawan river bank was a garden of butterflies, with all the greens and flowers, and the old aging trees. misty morning delivered the chilling breeze and coldness, white and thin like every other days. the flowers bloomed and drops of water from the leaves wetting the ground, was really a good feeling. soon, an army of butterflies came flocking to every blooming colours while the sweet flavoring smell pierced into the nostrils.

20 yrs later, life is no more the butterfly, as what it was back then, still a butterfly but no more the carefree but a surviving one. lost in every direction while living in a concrete jungle, no so much honey to depend on. little less enough just to survive.

life's a metaphor. sometimes we fly high, and most of the time we fly down below. only the fittest stay strong, they say, but are caught by bigger preys. so i won't decide nor do i claiming a side, life is somewhat just.

walking on the stairs of life is like a butterfly caught in a boxed shaped glass. people enjoy watching you grow and changing beautifully, while you're still trapped inside and struggling, wishing for a way out or someone to save you from that misery.

so long have we acknowledged this, but we're still denying it. same goes to me. looking through the box shaped mirror glass, seeing your reflection while enjoying the butterfly inside, what do you see?

you and me, and everyone else. no?

someone, please save me ...