The Butterfly

Photo by Reign Abarintos on Unsplash 

I killed a butterfly today  

then tried to write a poem  

I don’t know why I did it  

It died without a home  

It struck me as compelling  

as I recalled what my parents used to say  

be mindful of your surroundings  

a flap of butterfly wings can change a day 


I thought little of it then  

yet now I obsess as I reminisce  

if a butterfly flap can change so much  

what of the absence of it?  

Have I sealed my fate to infamy  

or paved my way to riches  

but maybe if I **** another?  

my unforeseeable fate switches


But what’s a butterfly to me?  

it wasn’t much before  

now you expect me to believe  

it holds the key to what’s in store?  

Free will must exist  

at least as long as I believe it to  

foolish of me to think my dead butterfly  

could have some affect on you  


Yet I sit here thinking  

of thoughts I’ve never had  

a liar I would be to tell you  

that I haven’t changed a tad  

It did not have a name  

and I did not have a reason  

yet as I blankly stared down  

I felt as if I had committed treason  


So I sweep away the body  

and leave the room to clear my head  

if my hand’s never clapped  

this butterfly would not be dead  

so be wary of the change you bring  

the waves you choose to make  

that butterfly could have changed a day  

and not believing that was my mistake

Written by Tark Wain

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