My weapon is a butterfly,
Its wings a canvas painted sky,
A symbol of grace and beauty,
A messenger of peace and duty.
In times of war and strife,
I release my butterfly to take flight,
Its fragile form a paradox,
As it carries hope with every stroke.
The flutter of its wings,
A gentle breeze that softly sings,
A reminder of the power of love,
A force that conquers all, and rises above.
My weapon is a butterfly,
A radiant beacon in a world gone awry,
May it inspire and ignite,
A spark of hope in darkest night.
Gender:
Points: 12
Reviews: 42