It's all but words.
Nothing is to be believed,
or trusted.
The same illusion ticks
in the back of my timid mind,
and velocity has no meaning.
Turn around,
face the remains of what used to be
your misery.
Though now the wind's still dancing
right outside my window,
yet I am not afraid.
I only wanted to tell you that
my thoughts are shaped
like butterflies.
It's time to say goodbye.
--