The Dead Butterfly

Dead leaves under his feet
Are keeping him warm...
In another place he wants to be,
To be away from his nightmare...

He wishes to go, but here he is,
All alone he cries to death!
He tries to survive, to live he tries,
But the dark is eating him.

Oh no! Is this the end?
Does he deserve this death?
He can't feel his broken wings,
So he can't fly from death.

He cries on his own grave,
And soon he will die alone,
Nobody will bring flowers,
Or tears or blood at his head...

[The] death has wrapped him...
The wind touches him gently,
It blows on his frozen wings,
And he seems to be alive...



                                                                                            5th July 2007