I held it in my hands close to my heart - that's how I heard it you know - the butterfly. It told me all of its stories; big as small, beautiful as unpleasant, crucial as insignificant. There were stories of hatred and love, winter and summer, boys and girls - all different kind of accounts from all over the world.
As it had emptied its small heart to me, it was about to tell why it all mattered, why I needed to know all these stories – but it never got the chance to tell me. It left me behind empty-handed, but with a heart filled with stories that mattered for some reason.
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Stories the Butterfly Told Me
RandomCOMPLETED I held it in my hands close to my heart - that's how I heard it you know - the butterfly. It told me all of its stories; big as small, beautiful as unpleasant, crucial as insignificant. There were stories of hatred and love, winter and sum...
