'Sweet dreams,
sweet dreams."
She'd whisper in my
ear.

Mommy drove
the black razor
winged butterflies
away when I was small.

But, now that I am older,
Black Butterflies come
again.
Permeating my sweet dreams
driving away everything I hold dear.

Black Butterflies with
razor sharp wings and a lust
for blood so strong a million
deaths couldn't slow
even one Black Butterfly down.

And now they're after me
slicing into my skin
planting seeds of
doubt, anxiety, despair
and depression
encouraging my
suicide.

Black Butterflies
symbolizing
death, destruction,
and despair.
Will they win my soul
and cause my demise?
Or will I
survive
The Black Butterflies?