Cicada's

I'm in a world of screeching cicada's, My deafening silence tells them I'm a moth. I want to die by the end of the month. Maybe if I was a Cheetah I could run, They would find it fun. They'll make me wish for a gun. These wings would look good pinned! I sound like a cicada but only to beg for death, Maybe a last breath! Put me in a jar with a lid, Keep it hid.