The Looking Glass Volume 39 | Page 32

I want it so bad,

craving it.

There’s a burning in me.

The orange flame

draws me to it

like a moth to light.

It could be mine;

it must be mine.

Pulling it towards me

I think,

“This will satisfy me.”

This must satisfy me.

Will it make me happy?

Will it make me proud?

Will it make me whole?

It better

make me new again.

Give it to me;

don’t take it away.

Please

I beg of you

it needs to be mine.

Moth

Samantha Palpallatoc, Grade 12