Moths

As the sun, Travels to foreign land, Ours is struck by blackness. But no. Our skies are lit with the fluorescence of our own doing. Our creations scrape the stars, Stealing their shimmer, To use as a spotlight, That lights our nightly escapades. For after all, We have become moths; Craving the warmth of the flame, And afraid of the dark.   Poem by: Valentina Tsilimidos

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