Someday this dormant patriot
will be forced out into the world
regaurdless of the pain and the bleeding.
It will be borne of a lazy cocoon
hatched of affairs outside that it once never knew.
She developed sensory organs,
and knew that the time was soon
as the sound of contrast and conflict
sped to a steady thump against the shell.
This wasn\'t right;
this wasn\'t safe.
Her navy[blue] steadfast patriot
gnawed out;
opting to change for the better.
She was new, the world was new to her.
As she began to change, the world deserved a clean slate.
She had a vague idea that it had been around forever,
but now was her chance to make a mark on it.
Beautiful and dicey,
this mother of a conciousness
of a new idea
fostered this moth
to make other things beautiful.
But stable.
It graced her mind to object,
but before it charged her lips
out fluttered the moth
across her mouth.
Reasurrance;
Civilty.
