Alone…
My bent bed bowed in the same place I’ve remained buried in for months.
My cruel mother captured me as her convict, carrying me to the cramped car. 
Anguish…
I balled, barked and bellowed.
I couldn't come close to the vivarium, the crude copper butterfly chain constricted                        my throat, I couldn’t breathe. 
Anger…
The air balmy and burdensome to breathe, lingering in my lungs.
The circling winds were compelling enough to curl the ends of my coarse coils.
Apprehension...
A breathtaking blue butterfly landed gently on the tip of my finger.
A calming cerulean blue butterfly cut away at my negativity.
Awe…
There, water bled beneath the boulders like syrup blanketing a stack of pancakes.
There, the conflagrant air hugged my body like a cosy cashmere comforter. 
Acceptance…
The place I’ll remain buried in for months, the butterfly vivarium.
The copper butterfly chain released my throat––I could breathe again.