I killed a butterfly today then tried to write a poem I don’t know why I did it It died without a home It struck me as compelling as I recalled what my parents used to say be mindful of your surroundings a flap of butterfly wings can change a day
I thought little of it then yet now I obsess as I reminisce if a butterfly flap can change so much what of the absence of it? Have I sealed my fate to infamy or paved my way to riches but maybe if I **** another? my unforeseeable fate switches
But what’s a butterfly to me? it wasn’t much before now you expect me to believe it holds the key to what’s in store? Free will must exist at least as long as I believe it to foolish of me to think my dead butterfly could have some affect on you
Yet I sit here thinking of thoughts I’ve never had a liar I would be to tell you that I haven’t changed a tad It did not have a name and I did not have a reason yet as I blankly stared down I felt as if I had committed treason
So I sweep away the body and leave the room to clear my head if my hand’s never clapped this butterfly would not be dead so be wary of the change you bring the waves you choose to make that butterfly could have changed a day and not believing that was my mistake