Sonnet of the Moon: Butterfly

Dead Butterfly; sweet morbid butterfly
Those wings of blood, of bones, of deathly scent
It dances its dance to bring forth a cry
A cry, a cry for life's final descent
The nectar it seeks is human's hot blood
How free, how free it is in our world
It's tragically beautiful in its mood
How dark and pretty it dances and twirls
In its rigor mortis, a nation falls
Ev'ry memorial will bring disease
The dead butterfly flaps once and breaks walls
Typhoons and earthquakes comes forth and breaks peace
Sweet one, how you posses so much power
And yet you seek to feed on your flower