Rainbows and Butterfly's how I miss them so.
But this time and age they are a myth to us that have known them before. How I miss waking up to a Rainbow and the Sun shining bright into my room. And the Butterfly's talking to me in a mythical language. But now, today, there are only grey's sky's and crows, which I dislike.
The grey sky is so dark that you can't tell if its morning, noon, or night. The crows go around the sky, as if to recreate a scene from a1930's horror film. But the Rainbows and Butterfly's are now just a distant memory that plays in my head over, and over, and over again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.