Stuck inside circumstance

Events unfold, these worlds crumble.
Something gets in the way of hope.
Words knock me through the floor like heroin.
Each feather in my back is plucked.
I’ve missed a miracle.
Yet longed for one deep inside these bones.
It never came.
Instead fracturing pain.
Like a moth disguised as a leaf.
Creeping in, promising natural wonder.
Veined in oxygen that trickles like opium.
Now I weep then sleep.
Like the moth, ugly yet fragile.
Fluttering ever closer to the flame that will consume.

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