I be like a moth;
absent of attraction
in a world of avid beauty,
much unlike the butterfly
who skims across the air by day.
When the night arises
I hide beneath a waterfall of shadows
in the hopes that you won’t see me,
and to save every other person
from having to look upon my form.
But maybe I be beautiful
in a way that has been judged unfairly;
matter this does not no more,
for never shall a pair of eyes
fall happily upon myself again.
A time there perhaps was once
when a photo could have been snapped
of me and hung upon your wall of hatred
as to remember me by,
but how could one ever forget
a creature, unloved and hideous?
The answer to this question
is irrelevant as I write these final words.
Farewell sun; hello moon,
I am your servant now,
and as long as judgmental eyes
avoid my features forevermore,
I will remain humbly yours indefinite.