The moon, so dark and deadly,
She lashes out and one by one
The stars fall from their places,
Rushing, floating to their rest
Where they can sleep
And by a sleep to say we end
The heart, the loss, the pain;
They burn,
But burning wakes the passion
Kindled to a flame in hope:
What should be hope that dwindles?
But a cure could soothe the cold that stings
Their blackened souls and darkened eyes.
They close too soon
As singing fades the consciousness,
Escape to depths that suffer not
The loss of jealous minds--
It bears them there in self-absorbed evasion;
To think no more upon the cause
But forget themselves in ever-tightening spirals.
this, however, is one that does. to me, if not to anyone else.
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Comments
--
If it's just a game, then what are we crying for?
--
beware, for i am broken
lest you widen the cracks
and shatter me
--
If it's just a game, then what are we crying for?
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