From birth I was rejected, as God had left his mark.
A lesion on my forehead, mother’s shock, quite stark.
So little time to suckle, so soon upon the bottle.
Forever sat upon the pot, so scared I was to puddle.

Quickly I began to learn, to be nice boy, quiet, timid.
To fit in with parental kin, keep lid on, know my limit.
Such ingrained conditioning, I soon was lamb to slaughter.
At mercy to my friend or peer, bully, thug or father’s daughter.

At school I came to realise, the suffering and the pain.
Of muddied shoes and spitting foes, pushed down banks in solid rain. 
And then there was a locking arm, closed taught around my neck.
To the unforgiving floor I fell, and wondered what the heck.

Off to head of year I was, returning from the black.
To resolve this issue, once for all, to get some existence back.
More difficult though it seemed to be, as formed I was, the walnut.
Tight within the shell I lived, no thought to shape, or being hermit.

For when one bully disappeared, another came at once.
More dangerous than the one before, more tyranny, more months.
Punching arms and kicking legs, left just holding thread.
To the last day of the term, where I was wished plain dead.

A pattern had been formed, to college and to work.
Every oppressor I could meet, to administer any hurt.
So attractive I seemed to be, a wondrous bully magnet.
My life led to others rule, criticised, controlled, their pet.

At the heart of me however, was one undying firm belief.
That another way was possible, to bring ultimate relief.
To a counsellor I would go, eventually to reach out.
A thought to gamble all, win big or leave with nowt.

Gatekeeper to another world, porter to the door.
Where I could spot a realm of flight, where I could rise and soar.
The path was being shown to me, the runway to take off. 
To leave the caterpillar way behind, greet butterfly and that of moth. 

And so it was to seventeen, not age but turns of wheel.
To drop all facades that were fake, to live life that more real.
Where many members of my clan, Lepidoptera of great power.
Would give me teachings, learnings, prose, of nature and the flower.

For stag to come, and gift masculine to the bone.
For tiger, wolf, panther to arrive, to start to bring me home.
For condor to appear, and raven, that of owl.
To be blessed with healing arts, for me to cry and howl.

For here I was beginning, to find myself at last.
Animals supporting me, ensuring such a blast.
Working with me hand in hand, to be trusted without fail.
To assist me in supporting you, as me, myself, Swallowtail. 

By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2026

​If you care to comment on this poem at all and the emotions that it brings up for you then please feel free to do so below.