Like all the beautiful things...

 I once spotted a Firefly

and ensnared her in a jar,

transparent, colossal;

as she's supposed to be shielded

from the brutality of the world,

like all beautiful things must be!

Petrified, she stopped fluttering

and sat towards the periphery,

humming death rattles,

at times, inaudible prayers;

eager to be deciphered and freed.

But, isn't she supposed to be concealed

from all those prying eyes,

like all beautiful things should be?

The sight of other flies broke her reverie,

who'd soon evanesce into obscurity.

She sung me lullabies to slumber,

rekindling her hopes of getting out.

But how could I let those

mere drops of empathy blur my vision?

After all, she's supposed to be tamed,

like all beautiful things have to be!

Gradually, she grew estranged,

for her scarlet hopes dissolved

into thin air.

Her glimmer slowly smothered,

no longer ricocheting off the glass walls.

She gasped for air, became feeble,

and breathed her last,

like all beautiful things end up to be!