by Rachael Lambert (age 12)

Oh, little fluttering creature, 
What are you doing in my room?
Spilling moonshine from your powdery velvet wings,
Why do you bob towards my lamp?

See how the golden light fills your black eyes
- slyer than the sticky strands of spider’s silk -
Tangling you in its web?

Staggering drunkenly, dulled senses 
Sacrifice your life’s essence.
The brightness lures you
The trap numbs you
The beast usurps you.

Once, you were like a little child,
The night holding you in a mother’s embrace.
But, eventually, a child must find their own way.

You chose the trap.
The net; the lure of gold.
The pile of banknotes.

You chose the searing glow 
That seems to beam through your wings
Declaring your presence to all.
Yet it scalds you.

You chose the craving,
The crown of falsehoods
To crush those under you;

But, in the end,
You are thrown to the floor
Inner self emptied; a void filled 
With lies.

If only you had flown free,
Sweeping inky skies
Glowing silver with the peace of belonging.
Shedding starlight,
Spilling love.