You, the keeper of tides
silvering shadowed streets,
illuminating the hush
as sleeping infants dream.
Tonight your light
will touch troubled hearts
with bone-chilled fingers.
Be gentle, sweet Luna
let them know the sun will come.

If I were a tree,
I'd be a good tree.

I could stay drunk for days,
I love the way I can't feel
my legs
or my head
and I can't see
what's in front of me;
I love how I can punch anything
and everything
and not feel it,
and I absolutely love
stumbling home
with ****** knuckles
and laughing at my own
stupidity;
I see inside of myself
when I'm drinking,
I see it all;
all the anger
and the pain,
we don't talk,
just look,
and that is enough,
to know that when I
inform people that there
is so much more to me
than what they see,
and they tell me I'm being
silly,
I know,
I know,
that you exist

Her feet tread lightly on the snow,
Leaving no imprint, no imprint.

She is frightened to look up,
No laughter, No tears.
Nothing but this masquerade.

And when the reaper gently holds her soul,
He is not weighed down by her presence.
her feet tread lightly on the snow,
Leaving no imprint,
*No imprint.