Through silent night,
When I look for the moon,
With sleepless eyes;
And unsure thoughts,
Will you sing me to sleep?

So tomorrow when it dawns,
I'll tell you how I fit,
Blocks of words into,
Empty silences,
That stretch into oblivion.

Tomorrow night when,
The night sky is bare,
And there are no stars left,
Tell me the story of the little girl,
Who fell down from a cloud.

And when I wake up again,
I'll show you how to bleed,
Through metaphorical sentences,
That make no sense,
So you'd know the way I heal.

When I wander at 3 AM,
Give me a fistful of dreams,
To ponder upon,
Because my eyes,
are still not heavy.

After the sun leaps into the clouds,
I'll tell you how to build a body,
With untidy stitches,
Of worn out hope and strength,
Shining in my translucent knuckles.

And when the darkness comes,
And I'm insomniac again,
Tell me how to hold your hand,
Without grasping only air,
In my empty fists.

In the morning light,
I'll teach you to form a smile,
On your stone lips and,
I'll tell you it means,
That you're happy.

And through years,
That we'd weaved,
With patched fingers,
Of clumsy stitch work,
And broken threads,

And frail skin and brittle lungs,
At last you've taught me to sleep,
(Although I still don't sleep sometimes),
And I've taught you how to be human.

So tonight when I'm looking at the moon,
I see you in the night sky,
Because tonight again I'm not sleepy,
So I'll count your eyelashes instead,
Because there are still no stars left.