Beneath the moon's soft glow, a little moth sighed,

"I'm not a butterfly," feeling a bit wide-eyed.

No fancy colors on its wings so small,

In the quiet darkness, it felt a bit small.

Where the flowers bloom and butterflies play,

The little moth felt lost in the muted array.

Not part of their crew, not catching the light,

Just an innocent moth seeking its own flight.

In the shadowy nook, it fluttered low,

In the gentle moonlight, a soft, subtle show.

"I'm not like them," it whispered so slow,

A tiny moth in the moon's soft glow.

With delicate wings, it danced alone,

In the hush of the night, all on its own.

Not looking for fame, just a chill flow,

A small, easygoing moth in the moon's soft glow.