Poetic Inversion

We Life Like Moths

We Live Like Moths: When the powder fades, so do we.

I think it's unfortunate, don't you?

- that we live like moths, drawn to the lights that ultimately kill us -

but our lights aren't real, they are the false things in our lives, like 

- like how we see people as perfect when perfection itself doesn't, can't exist.

I think it's a pity though...

Because moths are such beautiful creatures, they are so trusting

- like us -

of other humans, they will land on your fingertips and stay, or flutter in front of your face and be gone in an instant - the analogy is probably fading but - but it is true, no?

We live like moths, fluttering from place to place, person to person, light to light until we die. And what do we have to show for it? Torn wings, the inability to fly, no powder on our wings left for us to use.

Like a moth my own powder

- like magic -

is fast fading and... like a moth, I can't get it back. 

I could wait for the world's dust: people's broken, dead skin, parts of their nails, or hair that has worn away - maybe these things will act like my powder and re-dust my now tearing, fading wings?

But...

- but it will never be the same -

the powder, so much like magic, that sustained me fades away with each movement that I make, every unintentional brush against another person's shoulder; each and every push, shove, hug, caress, scratch and smile

- yes even your smile will make me fade away -

You and I and everyone around us, will eventually ruin us, for we are fools and moths; drawn to those who treat us badly, loving of those who burn us and forever captivated and heading towards that bug-zapper, that fire place, those false luminsescent lights we so often confuse to be the sun. 

We live like moths whether we see it that way or not, we flitter about, from place to place, sometimes stopping for far too long and sometimes nowhere near enough, but we live like moths and we are drawn to the things that destroy us...