The one winged butterfly

A one winged butterfly flutters on the countertop,
Her wing ripped away,
She flutters fitfully,
Trying to fly,
To escape the home that has become a Hell.

But alas she is crippled,
Her one wing lifted is not enough!
She cannot lift her dying body,
Not off the yellow countertop,
The same shade as one of the speckles on her useless wing.

To her torment the windows open,
Her ripped off wing beside her,
A leering face jeering enjoying her pain,
Her wild struggles,
And final breaths.

A one winged butterfly lay dead on the countertop,
Her wing ripped off so close to freedom yet so far away,
Glinting pleased satisfied eyes staring at her lifeless body,
She never was good or pretty enough,
But it was trust that struck the fatal blow.