Once I was a caterpillar,
Curious but often naive,
Observing from the ground,
Waiting for my time to leave.
Then I was a luna moth,
Silhouette whispering to the moon,
Drawn to the heat and fleeting warmth,
Of men who did what they wanted to do.
When I was a black widow,
A man eater they'd say,
I lived recklessly in my villian era,
Until my empathy got in the way.
I think I'll try again as a hermit,
Not very brave but tired of bleeding,
I traverse through this sand,
Longing for a shell that won't demand meaning.
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 9:16 PM UTC
Once I was a caterpillar,
Curious but often naive,
Observing from the ground,
Waiting for my time to leave.
Then I was a luna moth,
Silhouette whispering to the moon,
Drawn to the heat and fleeting warmth,
Of men who did what they wanted to do.
When I was a black widow,
A man eater they'd say,
I lived recklessly in my villian era,
Until my empathy got in the way.
I think I'll try again as a hermit,
Not very brave but tired of bleeding,
I traverse through this sand,
Longing for a shell that won't demand meaning.
You'd call this an easy retreat,
I call it surviving what's left of me.
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