Poem

Mine is really confusing and wierd

Looking back at its home, it spreads its wings and flies off to explore the world. Wings frail and colorful, it travels through strong winds and crowded places. That butterfly flies free, without a single care in the world, flying to that special place it needs to see. Flying by friends, relatives, it just keeps flying. Taking twists and turns, ups and downs, it keeps flapping its wings and gliding through the air. It has a longing to go back, but its winds keep flying forward. It practically turns around, but no; it keeps flying. It goes high, high, high, passing by colorful blurs and dots. Stars start to pop up, but it keeps flying. Tiered, half asleep, its wings lead it. People are already in their homes, back from a busy day of work, sipping tea with their family. I lay in bed, hearing my parents snore from their room really loud. And that butterfly keeps flying.