Sunday, May 31, 2015

The moon.

She stood there laughing,
On solid ground,
I was always wondering,
ow someone like her,
Could be so easily amused,
When her laugh,
Was shining down on me,
As the alcohol started to pour,
And the clock turning,
Ticking forward to four,
I asked myself again,
How is it possible,
She just can't stop,
Laughing, singing and dancing,
So bright as a star,
Yet when I went to,
Go to the toilet,
Brush my teeth,
Put on my sweatshirt,
Go off to sleep,
In the mirror suddenly,
I saw I was the moon,
As I started to shiver,
For I may not be,
The most bright star,
Or the one you want to give away,
Yet my semi light,
The light I have is not to fade,
My shimmering light will always stay,
I heard her singing,
From under my room,
She was laughing,
So I fell asleep,
Easily amused as a fool,
To be discovering,
That her ground was never solid,
It could break rapidly,
Her ground was fragile,
She was dancing on holy ground,
Bound to fall one day,
And as stars fall,
Somehow the moon,
Will stay always,
To light up the night,

She was like the stars, yet I felt like the moon,
Dark and tormented, yet the moon lights up too. 

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