The flame beckoned, but the moth shielded her eyes,
With wings of black lace and velvet, scorched by lies.
Ragged scars roughly braided into her shadowy corpse,
Handsome intricacies and brutal lesions carved by force.
Yet, all she met determined her unblemished and whole,
They were unsettled, and sought to demolish her soul.
Ever blameless, they bitterly accused the forlorn maiden,
Engrossed in despair, she found refuge only in Satan.
They smashed and pillaged she who was already broken,
The critters robbed her throne, their envy unspoken.
Thus, she retreated into the icy shadows once again,
And struggled to restore herself, a moth beyond mend.
Poem and photograph are the exclusive creations and property of Ami J. Sanghvi.