Two butterflies, their slender waists entwined,

carry us to our destined place—you and I.

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Hand in hand, we draw a circle,

and now I am a young boy flying in the sky.

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Shedding our skins, let's soar high—

in the drifting smoke, your shadow

flickers, almost visible, almost gone.

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​

Maybe it’s just delusion.

Or maybe, simply, illusion.