Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2013
In the Moon's Morning, lay The December Skyline, that sang the songs of the Hollow Man's lullaby.
The Black Sun's Days showed a truth they all feared and so, like children, they hid under The Moon's Skirt.
And when they finally understood the honest face of morn, was when the sun shone no more.
Under The Moon's Skirt, they were forced to live. A glimmer they destroyed for it's beauty was the darkness they feared.
Destroying what we fear; left to live with what we destroyed.
Written by
lindisa mathabela  in my head
(in my head)   
613
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems