Like a Moth to a Flame

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He was like a bright light.

He was the only reason I yearned to live.

I loved with my entire heart. 

But wasn't it enough?

My form of love, he hated it.

And I hated her.

How will this end?

I will play my violin until the end.

Pouf, The Most Hated ButterflyWhere stories live. Discover now