Airohng Liebe (1993 / Dresden, Germany)

I caught a little black butterfly,
I kept it in a jar.
I carried it with me
Where I went, near and far.
It listened to my problems,
My sorrows and my grief;
It kept me from self-destruction,
It brought me sweet relief.
My butterfly became my best friend,
My whole world in a jar,
So I had no need for real friends
For they all seemed under par.
Eventually, my butterfly withered
Fro the pressure of my sighs,
So much I believed it began to hate me,
And it shriveled up and died.
I wept and sobbed for days upon days-
Nothing could tame my tears-
For my black butterfly listened to me cry
And fluttered away all of my fears.
I mourned for my little black butterfly,
For it was so much more-
It was my friend, my family,
My confidante, and my haven-
Which is dead, but not lost.
My little black butterfly is gone,
But it still remains,
Fluttering on,
In my mind.