We see them coming
So beautiful and free
Yet we never stop
Nor we care to see
What damage we have caused
As the butterfly lays dead on the street
We wipe the gunk away
Never wondering if karma we will pay
Are they completely unaware?
Or do they choose a quick death?
How could a symbol of freedom
Possibly be under that much stress
Either ignorance truly is bliss
Or they seek the ultimate gift
To forever rest
Unwillingly
We comply with their request
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really enjoyed reading this. It flows well and has some subtle part-rhymes in it. I was drawn to the title because I have a poem with a similar title. It is called 'Butterfly of Death' and I invite you to read it. Thanks.