Moth
I did not hate you until you left my beloved woolen top
with so many holes that reflects a galaxy in the sky.
I like your lightness and artistic movements as you flapping across sitting room and bedrooms
You look likes a fairy but not as fair as I wish.
I am like an inspector for the crime scenes
And definitely my urgent job is to catch you.
There I found you hoovering on my white wall
So obvious to me that you must be color-blind
With your wings at your back
It seems you are waiting for your chance
A chance to mate
Or a chance to bite
Or waiting to escape.
But I could not let you go
despite you are so vulnerable
I just could not.
You wings becomes a line of grey powder as I squeezed you
ending your premature death.
I am a murder with a corpse in my finger
My fairy, you should not come to human place
It is your fault that leave me such a name.
Alice Wat
July 2020
written under knockdown in London
First time using
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