The black of the sky can overtake the white of the moon,
Those that you claimed to love can easily leave you,
The closer to love, the closer its doom,
And a close doom makes it easy to bereave you.

The deeper the love, the deeper the cut it makes,
The darker the chocolate brings the sweet of the cake,
The more beautiful the girl the more on her that’s fake,
The uglier the situation the more pills it forces you to take.

The harder the hit, the farther you fly,
The harder the times the longer you cry,
The stronger the will the harder you die,
The prettier the mind the uglier the guy.

I’m a poet’s shell and a story teller’s mind, I’m a form of the past and a tale of the present. I’m a blank sheet on a blank form and a blank form with a filled mind. I mumble when I think in order to keep my thoughts in order, I hold back cries into my pillows and hold back howls at the unforgiving light of the moon as it defies the rest of the night’s sky.