A perfect butterfly.
I have watched you for days in that lonely courtyard.
Why did you stay?
At gloaming, I come to find you trapped in that spider's grip.
I would have intervened but her poison was sunk deep into your back.
Oh, how you struggled as the agony flowed through your heart.
You were our lady ...queen of butterflies.
Each ironic blow killing both death swimming between the other.
Who had the last laugh?
A perfect truth of nature, yet so meaningless.
The next day and with the first dew of morning death.
A Black widow, facing the monarch.
Perfect invincible pray and lethal predator.
The widow has deposed the queen.
The queen is dead.
Long live the queen.