Now each to its own breath.
Every time it happens,
there's no one else.
The beating of shred wings
in a diaphragm of pain,
mute, in a language
of inability to lift into the air.
This trying hard.
Still trying harder.
God, see this.
Appear now,
light as a common flower,
before the proud coiled tongue stiffens.
Do not stop or look.
This blind flutter.
Or if you stop by,
please do not stare.\n\nGopikrishnan Kottoor Raghav
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/butterfly-dying/