I have a butterfly collection. They are wondrous little creatures that float on the breeze and stare through deceiving eyes on all the action around them. They spy and concoct ideas to destroy; from flower to flower making hand offs to each other of treacherous plans. They pass it from generation to generation letting it build until the final moments when they will attack. Their antennas explore and search for the weakness of their enemy. They allow us to believe that our touch disintegrates their wings, but it does not. The powdery substance left on our fingers infiltrates through the pores of our skin, just another piece in their puzzle of doom. They will use us as a means to an end, fluttering around attracting our attention. Landing on our colorful shirts and exciting us with delight. As we spread their intrusive virus unknowingly doing their deceitful dirty work of vengeance, I wonder will we survive after their global domination.