White moth are thy not drawn to dull flame?
Hath said flame to emanate from Night Mare's mane,
Shall thy flutter past all the same?
Nay,
Whitest moth in darkest night,
dance towards brightest flame tonight,
Embrace her tremors, Embrace her hate,
Embrace the void she procreates,
Kiss her in the form of impending threat,
Spill crimson beads across her *******,
White moth are thy not drawn to death,
Be sleep but hollow in final breath?
Nay.