The moon is beautiful in her solitude.
From afar she is like a pearl, pure white
Like milk.
Though she knows multitudes:
She is not white like a pearl, smooth like
silk.
Surfaces are cratered, tumultuous, grey and not white.
Sometimes she is shy, disappearing behind clouds and shadowed trees,
As if she were scared of her own light.
She waxes, she wanes, she decreases
And fades, only to become brighter than ever.
She knows what it is like to be ever -changing, outshining everything in
Her splendor.

Like her, I want to illuminate dark skies.

The sky is empty –
I am ****** down here.
Hell is in my heart,
It is burning through my blood.
Its relentless beating, scorching
Will leave me to ashes;
I am ****** to myself.

The sky is empty –
The world is divinely alone.

Sadness greets me like a lover,
It is omnipresent, it listens, it watches
It envelopes me like a dark cloak
Its gentle familiarity
Is my favourite sin.

I clasp my hands together just to feel I am living,
That I exist in my skin.

The sky is empty –
I shed a tear,
a drop of holy water.
I have felt. I am cleansed. In the depths of my misery,
I am blessed.

It is nighttime.
I contemplate the
dark sky, with its distant stars.
I create the world again.
Let there be light, I say.

Waiting, Words, nothing,
****** mouth, ****** brain,
Inadequate heart,
we are in battle again.
The girl who seeks solace in words but cannot speak them.
My words mean nothing.
It all means nothing.
I sometimes think, when my inaudible voice fails me
You must know
How intensely I have replied;
does it not show in my eyes?
All the while my face is like a stone.
It is all a show.
You could not really know, how my mind, it tears and rips itself apart screaming shouting wailing crying
Its helpless vacillations
Of emotion
Its indecisiveness
It is a curse,
To feel so deeply, to hurt and hate and cry and love so much
And to never be able to convey anything.