Like A Moth To A Flame... (cont.)

Like a moth to a flame, I am attracted to sin...

even knowing that it will bring me to such an ugly end.

For the wages of such, is only death‐

and on one of these days, my heart will withdraw its final breath...

Why is it that knowing better, just isn't enough?...

as if the scars tallied across me aren't enough in their numbers‐

as if I am only attracted to what resides outside the realm of my reach...

to one day, finally grasp it in my hand,

only to burn it before my eyes, that I may never be tempted again.

But of course, such a fantasy is as realistic as the thought of relief...

from this burning heart inside me,

it is not any belief that's been set ablaze here.

Like a moth to a flame, I am attracted to death‐

unknowning of how many breaths I have left,

for the wages of sin is such.

I both love and hate what attracts my eye‐

Who am I to think I deserve so much?...

My heart has become a debtor from paying the price of comparison‐

and my tongue, the editor of these lines scribed by my hands...

tis only to keep them from further sin.

Those same hands wait for the day I decide to favor the flesh of my human nature

over the knowledge of truth stored up in this damaged heart of mine

that I may use the excuse again, "I am only human..."

when rather, I am nothing but a single moth to an ever‐burning flame.

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