I sit under the moon, gazing up every year
Trying to remember exactly what it is that I fear
Is it the passing of time or skins I lack?
Is it the mistakes that I've made or the fact that I can't bring the past back?

What is it that I'm afraid of?
Is it the people I've hurt or the people that have hurt me?
Am I afraid of everything that I can’t seem to see?

What do my eyes say I'm scared of?
Is it my hope that always seems to die?
Is it what people seem to deny?

What is it? Where is a remedy?
Is it the possibility that my life can end in a tragedy?
Is it about the fatigue life had displayed screening my raggedy?

The moon’s light perishes in the meanwhile
Somebody shall come in from any corner or aisle
To help me ebb my distress
Or I might forget life’s good moments
And only think of life being vile