Classic Poem

POEM NO. X: BUTTERFLY In the tattered wallpaper I see a butterfly dying. Secret mouthpiece bearing endless traffic to and from the other world. One day in the mirror I see on my beard a butterfly dying. Wings collapsed in exhaustion the butterfly eats the meager dew that collects glistening from my exhaled breath. If I die while blocking the mouthpiece off with my palm the butterfly too as if starting up after resting shall fly away. Never do I let any word of this leak out.