Painted with Stains

You are that butterfly
the pastel dye,
the painted wings
a puppeteer's tangled strings.

Memory of views from the sky
as hard as you try
Velvet antennae
to heavy to fly

But flight you will gain
for in the Red Rain
your beauty is shed,
wings flapping instead.

Scarred you'll remain
lost blood and new stain
forever with pain
but fluttr'ing again.