Butterfly, with this stone I grind you down
Like the Balisong I lost in a storm
While I wandered making peace with thunder.
I am sorry to fold you so tightly,
To visit my agony on your wings,
But the land is poisoned- it will choke you.
Should I allow eggs to be laid, knowing
That your progeny will be hideous?
At time’s end, monsters rear their many heads
But you are pure, lovely: I will free you from pain.
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