Zap
Short, silly, weird thing I write-doodled up for lack of anything else.
I really dislike moths in the house. Pity a bug-zapper wouldn't handle the problem.
They keep coming out of the pantry from some kind of moth-dimension.
Not my best, kinda odd, but its a thingie.
The light that brightest burns,
is always shortest by far.
And what a furnace burns in yonder star,
that its light pierces daylight's turns.
And too late I find,
that my insectile mind,
Has lead me to a clever trap,
built by unknown hands.
No matter how hard I flap
I enter death's bright, hot hands.