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Butterfly Gibberish
Should I catch the comet that
has lit my darkness like a candle?
Only to realize that the love it
holds in it's soul is too cold.
Perhaps I should catch a nightcrawler
that could never satisfy my love
and be disappointed when the sun grins
it's skin dry where the mud hardens.
No, they say you should wait for the one;
the monarch that asked God for you.
Awe, but I've loved them all before though.
Soon their veins die of dehydration
while their heart melts from a star.
What is love but a deadly virus caught.
Tell me, when nobody tries to catch me.
