The Weakness of the soul


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1. The battered butterfly

She runned across the field falling from the speed as if she was wrestling with the wind.

Tears run through her cheeks, she wipes them on her sleeve faster than she runs as if it is weakness in the soul.

When her feet could not bare her weight no longer gradually the weakness rose up her tender body eating it like a disease "No I can make it..I can make it on time" encouraging herself while dragging her body and forcing it to carry on.

The darkness is rising, it is swallowing the sky no longer light, no longer peace. She's lying on the field like a butterfly with battered wings. Her white dress covered in dirt, the weakness took her over like the enemy who occupied our lands. Shivering, her shivers run through her spine. Who will see her? Who will remember her? Nothing..in a glimpse...nothing. All her life she experienced nothing worthy of her existence and now she will die with nothing in her heart. The dissapointment closed her eyes. Moments of silence..silence that is empty of hope covered the field only that remains heard is the wind brushing the hay yet the shock forced her to awaken herself from the trans. A cold hand feeling her pulse "Who am I?" She asked.

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