reverse order
when the existing wound
fits nicely over the weapon
held innocently in hand
by an unknowing
consequence
before a single word is
spoken from the purest
mouth mute in the wind
so far away
impact
from lightning in a storm
charging above a heated sea
raging from the single flap
of a butterfly's wing
this is as is
and its already too late
because love and hate
are innate creatures
devoid of carbon
(Drawing by Anna Andura on saatchiart.com)
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