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the butterfly
der Schmetterling
to my friend
the end of the world
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der Krieg


the butterfly

Watch the butterfly
Watch its trembling dance and ghostly beauty,
A splash of color in the suffocating grey.
The spirit of the dead?
Maybe, for there are lots of dead,
Corpses strewn on the ground soaked in mud.
Soaked in blood.
They all look so peaceful and so still
Except for one.
His body is wasted but his eyes are alight,
For he is still there
Fighting.
Fighting for his beliefs, his country and his sweet love
Held dear inside his heart
As he pulls around his horse,
As he slaughters foe after foe,
As his best friends dying screams kiss his ears,
As he feels the hard icy blade plunge between his shoulders and
He slumps forward onto the dusky mares sweaty hide.
As he hits the tainted earth
Her darling face
Her smokey eyes
Her smile like the sun
Appear in the smoke.
Reach and stroke that strawberry hair
Reach for one last kiss,
But how can you? They are gone, claimed by the choking mist,
Only her scent remains, swirling over the battlefield,
Spicy sweet roses and spring mornings.
One lone tear trickles over a grimy cheek
As her image is shrouded by the crimson haze.
Finally, the soldiers eyes grow dull and gaze becomes still.
The butterfly lands on his nose.