Late Night Gibberish

As her spiral to the ground grows faster by the second; the evil butterfly claws away at her wings. Grasping and ripping till only shreds remain. The clouds gloom in her wake; the hatred of her own causes leave an emptiness not even flying can fix. All love is lost and there’s nothing. Nothing, but the fact the ground is slowly starting to get closer. Tears sting her eyes as the air rushes by; they desperately nip at her face, trying to awaken reasoning and common sense before it is too late. The ground meets her fury, and commands the attention of one sorrowful butterfly. Earth and body, an unholy union of pain and relief. Her eyes should be closed, heart stopped, but nothing even close to this is present. Just warmth and a soft whispering. Just a dream teasing the oncoming fate of a doomed butterfly; hateful of her own wings. A gift and a curse. She floats, inches from earth, to find her beaten and broken wings thrashing in a furious desperation.

‘Please...’ They silently cry in vain ‘not yet...’