we live in a wonderland.
but i look worried.

*please work*

i watched several bright butterflies
flutter obsessively around a withering flower.
dozens of orange wings flapping densely in the air,
pushing, tugging, picking at it in a disturbing manner.

then i realized it was not a flower,
it was a dead butterfly.
it was as if they were trying
desperately to coax or plead it back to life.

they speak
in a language we can't understand.
but sometimes we can try to,
and just sometimes, who knows,
we might be right.
i think/hope so.