Like moths battering against the light,
We continually throw ourselves at a capitalist ideal,
Which, for the most part, burns and disillusions;
Entices with wondrous rewards, but leaves us hungry;
Bamboozles and beguiles - a tantalizing phantasm.

Like moths, we're attracted to the glorious lie;
A lie perpetuated by self-serving media
And a frivolous entertainment industry,
Hell-bent on manipulation and distraction;
Feeding our restless cravings - enthralling and elusive.

Like moths, we aspire the light and neglect the dark;
Bewitched by sparkly luxuries and the spoilt rich;
Committed to bigger and better, regardless
Of the poverty encamped along the street
And the nagging stresses - undermining certainty and sapping souls.

Like moths, too few escape the glare...