Million-Butterflies

Why are you so nice to me? Everyone else wants to bite my head off, and yet all you do is look at me and smile. Why is it you don't trample on me like anyone else? I crawled into your house uninvited, not dare asking for shelter, and yet it's like I needn't say a thing. You still prod me from time to time to see how I would react in fear, and yet you like it when I open up so. I still picked my own corner hidden away, and yet you don't force me out or somewhere else. It is nice here though; peaceful, warm, still. Better to die in here then out there I suppose. Would you mourn me if I died? What am I saying? Of course you would. And yet,