"Have you seen my friend?"
The silent weep of a moth near a flame
He used to dream of a light, the ones that burn his wings and all his might.
"Have you seen him?"
The little moth cried.
"I missed his presence in the midnight air, far from the burning fire."
"We found warmth that we thought we could keep."
The light and the heat, that burned their feet.
Silly little moth, you'll never find him again
The burning embers that you yearn to embrace
Finally led him to his end.
Cry. Cry. It's time to say goodbye.
The dancing shadows left nothing but despair.
The little moth who silently weeps, wings embraced with flames.
You were a distant memory, and all to same.
"Goodbye, farewell, little moth in the flame."
YOU ARE READING
The Anomaly of Emancipation
Poetry"It's 3.00 AM, and these feelings don't seem to put themselves to sleep." A compilation of short poetry written when the heart just wanted to talk.
