The Wilted Butterfly
The Transition after Death
No amount of beauty could ever hide the pain that lingers beneath the skin. The pain that makes invisible tiny cuts that bleeds out memories I can’t wish to hold on to. No amount of time in a cocoon can teach a child how to grow and transform without their father.
What does the butterfly have to look forward to after breaking through it’s crystallized home, it’s last barrier of protection?
In it’s first moments alone as it’s wings lay wet and crumpled at it’s side, it believes nothing. Given time it must learn to survive and thrive or wither away too.
About the Creator
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