Moon is not beautiful
She doth not shine golden
She drops weakened, white light
on creatures craving sleep
She sits there and stares
At a frightened little world
with her cold, chilling glow
and a hostility deep
It's ingrained in her soul
to make the nimbus look fearsome
ghastly and pale
like a place to hide demons
She debases belief
We forget our star-wish
and thick, we go fishing
at nighttime
And then, Moon releases
a loneliness, cold
and we can't elude
we're stuck in the hole of
This brooding solitude mood
and its tole.
There's no escaping anytime soon
As we start to fear
the burning sun
And I suppose, this is my loathing of Moon.
Moon is contagious.
She offers the aid of her presence, unfailing
When we're washed down like willows, weakened
and wailing
And we can sail under her
Just as the dime
It's a lie that the night's
only clock-start for crime
When she's out from the hiding place
to be bright as Moon can
There's not a direction
No footpath
No overworked plan
And when I remember:
Beauty needs not a rival
I suppose I'll be loving Moon, soon again.
I was told to take the side of love and hate, so I chose the wonderful moon - which I actually adore. To make the last line sound right, you have to pronounce it so at to rhyme with "plan", as I am Canadian and I say it that way. :)