Under the moonlight, shadows creep,
whispers stir where secrets sleep.
The mind becomes a haunted room,
echoes tangled in the gloom.
A fragile soul, a weary fight,
drowning silent in the night.
The stars look on, but do not speak,
as hope feels distant, lost, and weak.
Yet through the dark, a silver thread,
a glimmer where the night has bled.
The moon, though fractured, still will shine,
a quiet vow: “This strength is mine.”
For even pain, beneath its weight,
cannot undo what hope creates.
And broken hearts can heal in time,
the night will fade, the dawn will climb.
Aug 28, 2025
Aug 28, 2025 at 11:13 PM UTC
Under the moonlight, shadows creep,
whispers stir where secrets sleep.
The mind becomes a haunted room,
echoes tangled in the gloom.
A fragile soul, a weary fight,
drowning silent in the night.
The stars look on, but do not speak,
as hope feels distant, lost, and weak.
Yet through the dark, a silver thread,
a glimmer where the night has bled.
The moon, though fractured, still will shine,
a quiet vow: “This strength is mine.”
For even pain, beneath its weight,
cannot undo what hope creates.
And broken hearts can heal in time,
the night will fade, the dawn will climb.