PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There was a moth wandering around my room
I tried to kill it but it always nictated its grey wings and disappeared into a new hiding place

It went somewhere to sleep
And I crawled under my grey blanket
There, in the darkness I was wondering
Does a moth have a soul? 

I didn't know the answer. But which would be more frightening:

To have a soul of a stranger in my room
Or something that does not have a soul at all?

I didn't know the answer for that either. 

And now when I think about it, what is a soul anyway?
Do I have a soul?
Am I myself nothing but a moth trying to escape, flying towards light, never knowing why.