I claw at light desperately

Trying to preserve the dots of brightness´

the one I find in me, in others, or the world,

after living in darkness for so long

Not flying in beautiful colours anymore

They ripped my wings

and I could only save some

A small part —

Short moth wings,

Not long flutters anymore

I need the warmth,

the lamps, the candles, the fireplaces

My wings not bountiful anymore

The colour disappeared

in blacks and whites of nightmares

I am not a butterfly,

I am a moth.