by John Oconner
in memory of a close relative,rest in peace MAC!
|what is life without pretty little butterflies!
Butterfly so coluorful and full of lifes hardened tears, once you were a mere inkling of thyself now you are what dreams are made of.
Butterfly where are your flowery wings what evil has brought you to your knee's, arise and face your maker, for life is but a short minute in the life of God. Butterfly! oh poor condemned creature, where is your once rosie glow and youthfull demeanor, why has your life been a history of trouble and no love either?
As you lay there after life's relentless challenge I scream at you, WHY, WHY! Why could you not make better decision's, why did you give up, had life become so hard to love, has all those who loved gain much from your demise.
I will hold my head high, in respect for you dear tender butterfly, for you have shown me what I HAVE BEEN waiting on, the truth, the cold cruel truth,of things that happen to pretty little butterflies.