The moon sings from high
Yet, I’m lost to the night
Not a sorrow takes wing
Not an angel in sight
Every demon screams its anger
As they wage their war of mind
It’s too late to tell
I’ve unsurely surmised
So ends the beginning
Of my slow demise
No stranger to the stranger
In the mirror none too kind
There is magic in the making
Darker than a shadow’s crawl
Sudden laughter in the breaking
Of the fool who paid it all
Though there’s comfort in this failure
For it’s been so long, it feels too much like home
I’ve forsaken my mistakings
Undertaking such despair
Broken rhythm unromantic
All too real, yet barely there
Both in living and in dying
For it feels as both have settled in my bones
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 12:54 AM UTC
The moon sings from high
Yet, I’m lost to the night
Not a sorrow takes wing
Not an angel in sight
Every demon screams its anger
As they wage their war of mind
It’s too late to tell
I’ve unsurely surmised
So ends the beginning
Of my slow demise
No stranger to the stranger
In the mirror none too kind
There is magic in the making
Darker than a shadow’s crawl
Sudden laughter in the breaking
Of the fool who paid it all
Though there’s comfort in this failure
For it’s been so long, it feels too much like home
I’ve forsaken my mistakings
Undertaking such despair
Broken rhythm unromantic
All too real, yet barely there
Both in living and in dying
For it feels as both have settled in my bones
Diary of the ****** - Chapter 2
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