The Sparrow and The Butterfly

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The scene opens to a deceitful sparrow and elegant butterfly.

The black sparrow wares a black bandana caressed to his neck and chest. As polished and black as oil, his color dances with strokes from the sun. His eyes are colored an inestimable black as translucent as his soul. He’s doubtful. The black sparrow’s actions are to be cautious of. He seems all so placid. He seems all so sweet. But this innocent black sparrow has a story to tell, a story he is indeed hiding. He is cunning. He is sly. My lovely black sparrow…

The butterfly is blue. Her wings gracefully present them selves as a cerulean sea. She is captivation indeed. Hypnotizing most would say. Her wings flush as they fall and rise, fall and rise. As white and pure as a blank white canvas. Her emotions are hinted strokes collecting pieces of the sky. She’s beautiful. Although this innocent butterfly has a her own story to share. Her soul not near as pure as her appearance. Her actions are subtle. Her heart is paper thin, tied gently with a string she lays out to be caught. By a hungry sparrow perhaps? My gorgeous innocent butterfly…

In an odd series of wind kisses and bird whistles I notice something strange. The cunning sparrow is playing game to the butterfly’s heart. She is captivated by his black breast. She is addicted to his infinite metallic eyes. Little does she know that the sparrow will shred her paper thin heart and digest it for dinner…





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