Night mist veils the old lane
Blue butterflies rest on the doorplate
On their wingtips
Half an old faded debt they bear
Someone hides three decades of waiting in silence
The copper lock rusts
Locking in whose loss of poise
When the butterflies flap their wings
The wind whispers the code
Each wing vein
Engraves unspoken words
I count the broken crescents on the wings
Like counting someone's unfinished divination
The blue butterflies fly past the window
Leaving their scales in ashes
Who hides half a verse of repentance in the files
That hairpin still holds the old title
While the truth is gently crushed by the wings
Is it obsession turned into a butterfly
Or the butterfly carrying the sin
Flying through time
Dyeing the world blue several times
I chase the butterfly's shadow
Breaking into the siege of memories
But at the end
I see myself wearing the same false face
The old clock strikes three
The butterfly's wings shake off the afterglow
Someone in the dark piles up paper cranes
The unsent letter is blurred by tears
The blue butterfly skims by
Taking away the last half of the story
Is it obsession turned into a butterfly
Or the butterfly carrying the sin
Flying through time
Dyeing the world blue several times
I chase the butterfly's shadow
Breaking into the siege of memories
But at the end
I see myself wearing the same false face
When the morning mist covers the moss
The butterfly's wings sink into the dust
All secrets grow into nameless plants
Only the wind keeps reading that butterfly chrysalis
Reading and reading
A salty taste overflows
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