Quaint, delicate little moths
Launching themselves into lightbulbs
Teeny galaxy pioneers
Not dark? Why are they here?
The filiments arent glowing
So i decide to flick the switch
Perch on the bed and look at the sun set,
And think how many are my Icarus.
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And here I begin: questioning humanity
YOU ARE READING
What He Told Me. Poetry
PoetryI was told to share what I write by a guy. This is what I've done. Some of this is dark. Some of this is the inner workings of what is happening in my life. Im sorry for making you read this
