The streets are lined with broken light,
the air whispers a tale untold.
A city’s breath, a fleeting dream,
where silence hides behind the cold.

A butterfly drifts in the restless air,
carried by the winds of city's pulse.
It fights to rise, to feel the sky,
but its wings are bound in shadows' waltz.

The city sings a hollow song,
its echoes drown the whispered cries.
Yet truth is only found in flight,
beyond the veil, where silence lies.

The skyline flickers, ghostly bright,
pavement hums beneath the feet.
A past dissolves in fading glow,
where future dreams and shadows meet.

The butterfly flutters through the haze,
lost in the storm of neon fire.
Shadows stretch like reaching hands,
but it won’t let them quench desire.

The city sings a hollow song,
its echoes drown the whispered cries.
Yet truth is only found in flight,
beyond the veil, where silence lies.

"Life swings like a pendulum,"
"from pain to boredom, never free."
The echoes dance, but in the end,
they twist and fold, they cease to be.

And the butterfly rises, breaking through,
where cold winds soften into light.
It lands on a hand, gentle and warm—
a quiet refuge, a world made right.