My Indigo Moth

A meek and mild moth
Feathery mottled
So delicate and drowsy
His wings clinging tight
Never releasing the waters cold surface
Holding him there
In the indigo night

The water won't kill him, but never releasing
Pinned with his wings like the tired arms of Christ
Tinged indigo blue
With his legs free to struggle
Sleepily dancing till his tears become iced

So tired of this spinning
He longs for the morning
And still he's forgotten
His feet cannot fly
But dancing in vain, in the moonlight at midnight
Swimming and weeping
Just waiting to die