Dead Butterflies
After all this, what is it for?
I climbed a mountain only to face a brick wall
Drowned in my own sweat and tears
Wishing I had cried even more
I smiled when I saw
the flowers atop the trees
Only to venture nearer and see
that they were only snowfall.
Now I am torn
by the wire-like branches
Worn
by the whiplash of wind.
Buried
under carcasses of butterflies
Watching the stars fall.
After all this, what is it for?
Copyright © Zin Lim | Year Posted 2013
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