butterfly
poetry
at last, i pick the finest flower to bury myself into. a lily that until now, i admired from afar only, the scent i only dared to dream of — up until now... oh, why i use its petal as a blanket, a shield from raindrops so hard and harmful, to let go, let go of all of it: the painful memories my ripped wings have brought upon me, the love i am unable to contain within a world so unfair and grey, so i let go, only to keep hoping. hoping that by the next time i open my eyes the world would not be sorrowful, that i wouldn't be so aware of self, plain on the outside, whilst there's a bright light i am unable to dim inside my being. hoping, that when i open my eyes i will be a beautiful new butterfly, with wings so strong and colourful i'd be proud enough to unfurl.
2026.02.11. - mirella ౨ৎ



MIRELLA! this is amazing
My hope is a silent warrior.
She crosses oceans to forget herself.
Still -
one day, she will return
to her native land.