Incinerate the Moths of Shame and Regret

Regrets collecting like moths inside my throat, choking up the windpipe until the acrid taste of soot and caress of their wings become a thing of habit. Feed them less and they start fluttering wildly until I can focus on nothing but the beat of their wings scratching against the trachea trying to bubble out, leaving behind shame at my terrible lack of will to just release them instead of infusing their hunger.

It’s better to stay quiet like this than to open my mouth and risk contaminating others. Better to stay like this than to let everyone suffer from my mistakes.

I know I’m only fooling myself, they’re growing restless and wild. Eventually they’re going to leave their cage- It’s up to me to either just stand there pouring out moths or incinerate them when I still have the chance to do so.