A scream that’s seldom heard by man
Was listened to by one.
This cry was of the butterfly,
Its silence overcome.
And so this man had found the door,
His prison stay was gone.
He’d broken through perception’s grasp
Surrounded, he was lone.
The sonic fire he lit with pride
Had pained and healed his wounds,
Yet we surmise - from his words;
The end comes all too soon.
The end of all we love and hate
Will end the wrong and right.
To start a life, begins the death.
The hero lays in wait.
His sole comfort, his soul’s one truth;
That fiction’s more than real.
A butterfly can scream
When silence dies and truth is killed.