Drawn, Irresistibly, Like Moths

Incapable of resisting the impulse
to draw ever closer to the 
flame that has the deadly potential
to destroy them women, like moths,
entrust their destiny to the psychopathic
predator, who like the flame, need
only be there, burning bright in
the promise of warmth, responding
to women's biological needs with
twisted, sinister needs of his own.
Prepared to deliver the excruciating
finality of all-consuming death, a
deep-seated pleasure for the flame, 
indifferent to the anguish of pain and 
finality in the moth's surrender.