Angered by anonymity. I am. A tune.
of butterflies, and hum: a meeting occurs...
with a Ghost, named: Oscar. He says: Again.
I gain, your sizable sameness. I am indebted, to you...
Mr. Pina. How great, I ensure: Again, forget...
Me not, he sings. Under a frightful bird.
Bigger then: A butterfly, whose wings go.
Over & around, like a circle, all armed. Pretty.