Gunpowder
The frozen flowers are being painted
by an unknown painter.
The butterflies are looking for gunpowder
in the winter
to burn themselves,
to burn these beautiful frozen flowers.
A Chaotic Circle with the power,
with the guns and gunpowder;
It confines everything except stars.
I want to brake these bars!
Without love our only chance is a miracle.
Can we save the butterflies
from this vicious circle?
Can we change the smell of gunpowder?
Can we change the world?
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