The sorrows are drowning with every last gulp
Afternoon dies quickly and the night is born
The guilt lies in every selfish glass
then suddenly, her purse perishes.
The moon, so alone. Robbed of all his dignity.
No one passes his way apart from
an unaware, ungrateful cloud.
Gone.
Gone, vanishing from this cruel universe
The moon, still alone
wanted to fall from the sky
And then she returned home.
A star
Not living up to her name.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
The sorrows are drowning with every last gulp
Afternoon dies quickly and the night is born
The guilt lies in every selfish glass
then suddenly, her purse perishes.
The moon, so alone. Robbed of all his dignity.
No one passes his way apart from
an unaware, ungrateful cloud.
Gone.
Gone, vanishing from this cruel universe
The moon, still alone
wanted to fall from the sky
And then she returned home.
A star
Not living up to her name.
I wrote this poem when in 2010 when I was 16 and having some issues at home. I'll never disclose who the poem is about but it is about someone who had an alcohol problem, someone close to me.
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