You tell me how I used to be, so much more free
You say I used to own any room I walked into.

You ask me "what happened to your?"
How did it come to be?
That right now you are so much less than who you used to be.

This makes me feel mad,
But mostly just sad,

Because it's one thing to know what you have become,
And another to have others tell you it's true

That who you used to be
Is better than who you are

That you've changed from a butterfly,
To a caterpillar