i am a moth drawn to the flame of despair flutter through the air no care for body just the burning of my soul the yearning to know what it feels like to throw everything away in hopes that dawn is close closer then is possible that time flows faster when you're giving your all for the promise of tomorrow where tomorrow is worlds away from today and its sorrows and that sorrow will someday be a sweet memory to borrow from when the joy becomes too much to bear
i am a moth in a world aflame it looks like hell but apparently hell other people and i'm sick of feeling sinful for feeling the sorrow of my fellow tortured torturers
they tell me i'm too hollow that riding the updraft is no good and being tossed about the firestorm is for fools and i'm as flighty as a feather in weather unsuitable to be out in yet i'm part of this world and to lock away my soul sounds abominable so a throw to the wind to see where it goes it might singe but it's worth it: the sorrow
i am a moth telling myself i'm not and blaming it on outside sources but being honest shows my woes are my woes and everybody knows their own
and i just speculate and spectate; trying to know my fellow moths
you're not nearly as sorry as you wish to be, and it's awful