366 Poems: September 8th, 2016

Bad Omens

Last night I wrote about a moth in my kitchen

in a fit of perfect creativity,

and as I got ready for bed he came into my room and flitted about.

But before I slept

and had already turned out my lights,

I decided to look at my phone one last time,

and when I did I felt the peculiar sensation

of something landing on my nose.

So I freaked out, and I swatted at it,

and down fell the moth on the bed,

a beautiful creature now living its last moments

that I had just said

was like me.

And as a regular person, one can find that a bit sad.

As a person like me, it’s a bit more than that.

Because I said that the moth and I were fighting for the same beautiful desires,

yet it seems in the fear and carelessness of another person,

one of us fell short of that.

And I don’t want this to be a warning

that life

is too short

for me.


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