I glimpsed a pitch black butterfly
Out of the corner of my life
I think it's flown round here before
Its wings a cold dark knife
I know I've seen pure light shine through
The flaming dying leaf
Its shine my only sanctuary
In the raging battle of grief.
The light the dark I see them yes
With eyes that are not clear
But will not close to black butterflies
Or to the light that is always near.
How does one step away from warism?
1 day ago
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