butterflies.

i am often times intimidated, especially as of late.
many people will tell you that an indomitable spirit and unfailing pride will carry the day.
those people are sadly mistaken.

the ones i wish to emulate are most often the defeated ones.
the people with dirt lined fingernails and sweat on their brow, paint filling in pores.
those quiet ones in the corner with nothing to say.

what if we opened them up?
a bone saw shrilling as it intersects the chest cavity, slowly sifting through the confusion.
i bet there would be butterflies.

below the wasted liver, thrown away in the zest of youth.
beside the stomach still churning with the half lies and full blown errors of a day gone by.
there would be something there.

maybe it would just be an apparition.
the thing that is keeping their mouths closed as they walk through the sunshine unwarmed.
however, i would like to think there would be butterflies.

thousands of them fluttering.
out every available orifice they would emerge like ants from under the deck in summertime.
there would be a cough and a stir.

then all those quiet people would speak.
pardoning themselves as they wheezed out one last hand painted insect from deep inside.
then they would speak the truth.

it would be the truth of observation.
the lines etched on hands and hearts through the lens of the eye from every quiet corner.
real facts defining real people.

then we would all stare in wonder.
as our gaping mouths would swallow the butterflies and close in an effort to open our eyes.
we would fall quiet.

all at once we would come to a realization.
the knowledge that the world is shaped and spun by the quiet ones in the corner.
they watch the world to closely to let is just slip by.