The Moon is Whispering to You

The devil dyes my brain with dark red blood.
I try defeating it, but always lose
My happy times are ruined, thrown to mud.
Now nutrients turn into sugar juice.

They ask, “Are you alright?” I wonder why.
I answer nicely, “Yeah, I’m always fine.”
I’m very good at lying like a spy.
But I’m so glad I did not cry at nine.

It feels like there is no such thing as “love”
I lay in bed at night, and start to think,
Could I become the shiny moon above?
I try to sleep but I can only blink.

The moon shines bright with little stars and says,
“You planned to restart all again?” Well, yes.