My butterflies fly to the glass
Trying to break through and melt in the spark;
Drawing on windows flowers and grass,
Clinging their soul to the whispering dark.

Waiting outside, on the step of my door;
Asking for fire, asking for light;
Slipping through cracks and kissing the floor;
Turning in tears, losing the white.

So silly I see them willing to die.
Just for a moment of sparkling light
They sacrifice the limitless sky,
Leaving the safe, though moldering night.

Giving their life for a moment of fame,
Wishing to be rather helpless than bleak;
Melting their life in the hands of the flame
Dead butterflies turn in tears on my cheek.