More Like a Moth
Before chrysalis
Who was to care
Who we would be
We were who we were
And we were free
After chrysalis
A divide began
A line not crossed
A freedom lost
Either a moth
Or butterfly
No mingling
Remain shy
To the other side
But looking across
the line of
Freedom lost
Is there perfection?
Is it not a reflection?
As you look to her
Don’t you think
“Isn’t she more
Like a moth”
