I am a moth, always been

I was a moth; I had always been.
But when I was a caterpillar, they said it was okay.
When I was taking nibbles off the leaves,
they said all that matters is that I get wings and I fly high.

They said all that matters is I just survive.
They said so unique, you don’t look like us.
Please stay that way never look like us.
I guess time flies, but I can’t now.

I am a moth that can’t fly.
I am a moth whose wings were too fragile
for the winds of the world.

I am a moth that just walks.
But I thought it’s fine,
what can I do when I can’t fly?
I will do what I can until I become prey.
I will struggle to survive with my sheer will.

But was I just a fool,
because suddenly they said, I am not cool.
My existence is what disgusts the others.
They can’t bear a moth that can’t fly.

They don’t want a moth that struggles to survive.
It’s either flight or die,
so I am an abomination.

Not the winds, not the predators,
but it was my kind that hurt me the most.
The winds just tore my wings.
But my kind sought to kill my will to survive.

With broken wings and burdened feet,
I am a miracle to survive.
A moth that can’t fly.

Maybe even the predators don’t want a moth so bad,
that they look at me and think ‘damaged goods’.
What can a moth do that can’t fly?
My legs give up, but I won’t die.
Call me a mad moth, call me an abomination.
If I can’t fly, I walk, if I can’t walk, I crawl.

One way to stop me is to try to smother my existence.
But then too you can get rid of an eyesore,
but my will, it will survive.

My bleeding knuckles, you will never forget.
I will turn into a spectre and haunt you in your nightmares.
A spectre of liberation.
A testament of my determination.

Deep inside you know you wouldn’t have made it that long.
Flight or not, I was a moth, I had always been.
With or without wings, I have always flown.
Maybe even higher than you can ever aim