When I had no butterflies,
No attention was important that time.
An invisible moth came by
Is now the reason I regret for not noticing the crimes.
I wish I never imagined to get rid of this space...
Everything seems to darken itself.
Being happy is now the reason to upset.
I shouldn't be distracted to other subjects.
The imaginary moth is now an occasional torment;
Though I feel safer to share with him my secrets...
Probably it's the best to lock the doors and extend the distance
From everything I can imagine...
I regret for surviving,
Best to stay away from denying
That I am such a misfortune.