Sometimes there is no butterfly spread upon the page
it’s just an inkblot – just a silly spill
if all the inkblot butterflies are flying
perhaps we’re sane and not at all that ill
Just a fun little poem about a dark subject- depression- and how many of us are not that “ill” but moreover just going through some stages and struggles in life. The butterfly has to do some struggling before it is strong enough to fly, if it is helped during this time, his wings will not be strong enough. He will not fly, he will fall. If you have gone through a tough time and think you may be needing a pill, try flying a little freer for awhile, grab a funny movie, head to the beach, take a walk though the forest or garden, and try to see why the struggle to fly is worth it.
( I am not saying doctors be damned, nor pills should be thrown out. Just saying if “normal” depression occurs, it is a natural part of life. And if you are depressed you are not sick, you are just struggling. But struggling too long is not normal, and then the doctor is always the best bet.)