she held a fragile butterfly
in the palm of her gentle hand
it wings moving,
not the the rapid flutter of flight,
but slowly, considerately.
her dusty colors shifted
like an oil spill over the heavens.
she tried to hold her;
keep her safe.
she loved her inevitably,
for she was innocent.
she never knew
right from wrong,
good and bad,
true evil.
she only knew the ways of the world;
to ****
or be killed.
this fight
is one which will always be lost
on both sides.

it feels like
everything
is slipping away.