Thinking The Wrong As The Right Way

I am a butterfly, whose home is not a house.
I am lost in a house and trying to escape,

I am tired of knocking the windows and the doors,
Using my mighty limbs and legs and feeling the sadness,
At my heart; pushing the window as hard as I can,
People never hear my calling as they dip in their own,
Problems of puzzles have and I do not want to give up,
As I want to go out, then a hand pulled the knob to open up,
The closed window for me to fly out,

I am a butterfly, whose home is not a house.
I am lost in a house and trying to escape,

O my butterfly, I too knock the same window,
When i am clouded with worries and sorrows,
Not knowing that i need a hand to free me,
Banging again and again on the same window,
Blindly wishing for the window to be permeable,
Not knowing the needed help is available,
when the emotion is lost and the love is expired,
opportunities are erased and scarcity is established,

I do behave like you, my butterfly,
thinking the wrong as the right way.