Moth
There's a moth outside my window
Yearning for the light
Bashing his wings against the glass
Each and every night
His body shaking like a hurricane
As he laments outside and pleads
Although it ensures destruction
He thinks it's what he needs.
A moth drawn to the flame,
I always will relate
As I too, toss and turn at night,
Blindly guided to my fate.
Now it's time to rest my eyes,
To be cocooned up in my bed,
While the moth takes a moment
To rest his weary head.
Neither of us will wake up winged,
Or with a new outlook on life.
But at least we're both doing our best,
To always seek the light.
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