I watch all of these beautiful mistakes grow into butterflies. They flutter and flap their colors so mesmerizing that every person chases its wings and hopes to fly just as pretty. They grab hold of its wings and study its patterns. They let it go. They fly free.
But worms…Worms don’t get the same respect.
Because they don’t live so exotically, they revel in the dirt. That is their home. Kids slice their souls in half and watch them lose more dignity as they grow within themselves to make themselves whole again. They do this alone as they sit there poking sticks at it. They watch it and laugh. They call it science. I call it demoralizing. Funny how worms only come out when it rains and butterflies tend to show off their wings when the sun shines. I wonder if butterflies forget how it is to be accepted only when a dark cloud looms over its head. I wonder if they forget what it’s like to crawl in wet slimy desperation.