We may not be perfect
just as somebody else
we're the ones that know
that everything has an end.

Now I'm on my knees
praying to a God that I
don't think exists,
praying fot the mistaken butterflies
for the fragility of their wings.
Praying for them in this wild world
wondering if someone is praying for me.

I know the world is full
of sensations and feelings
so I'll let the roots fill me
and make an armor around my limbs.

I hope someone is praying
for the tree girl
the girl who is made of dust and pollen.
I hope they believe in me
because I know things
about the end of everything,
about the imperfections
and the end of the world,
the one that make me alive.