Imprisoned–
in drunken dreams of escape,
we wander in circles,
calling it fate.
Is there a flicker,
a fragile, trembling chance–
that something within us
might shift, might dance?
They say the moon listens
to the lonely who speak,
yet it answers in silence,
cold, distant, and bleak.
No roads left open,
no paths to pursue–
just echoes of longing
returning to you.
I wished for a dream,
and somehow it came,
placed in my trembling hands
like a delicate flame.
But time slips through fingers,
it never will stay–
it kisses the moment
then quietly fades away.
Oh lonely soul, tell me–
what name do you wear?
Is it sorrow that holds you,
or something deeper– despair?
Words fall like daggers,
sharp, quiet, and slow,
they don’t touch the surface–
they carve far below.
They whisper, “the end
is where all things begin,”
yet I stand in between–
lost somewhere within.
So tell me, my love….
will anything bend?
Or are we just living
the start of the end…?
♡ lil-usagi