𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢

I killed a moth. It was an accident, I suppose. What was I suppose to do?

It scared me, I think. Have you looked at one up close? It's dark red eyes staring into my soul.
I hated the way it's wing expanded or how it looked like a fake butterfly. I was caught off guard when it flew directly at me.
I heard that moths are known for eating clothes and if that's the case than I am justified in my killing....right?

I feel strange.
I killed a moth
Was it an accident?
Did that life even matter to me?
It wasn't even a butterfly.
So who would care....
Some might try to paint me out to be the bad guy but I did what was suppose to be done. Killing something that I don't quite understand.
Who cares... It's just a moth.
So why do I feel so strange.

I framed the moth, look at my glorious work. Be proud of me - Be proud of me - Be proud.
It's winged spread apart so we can gaze on it's small freckles. It's head barely hanging on by cheap wood glue.
Isn't it a splendid form of art? I killed a moth.
I feel like the praise is still not enough, I must put it on the internet for them to understand.
But little did I know, I was already plastered on the news. How did everyone find out that I killed a moth?
Are they stalking me? How did they know? Why are some praising me and other spreading my face on hate forms. Why must they put me on jury?
I only killed a moth... It was different than me. It was different than a butterfly. It was different.
It was different. It was different...IT WAS DIFFERENT.

I won in court for killing a moth, but now I must know-
Was it in lord's name or was it truly a messed up sin?
Other's taught me not to trust a moth. A butterfly is the absolute truth.
So why are those praising at my feet so much smaller and littler than me.
I told myself it was only a moth. Yes, It was only a moth.
A insect that I didn't take the time to see.

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