Sometimes I wish the moon could talk, oh the things i could learn. It could tell me about the nights it's shined through my window, illuminating the tear tracks on my face and the regret in my heart. It could tell me about the wishes that have been wasted on it, year after year, child after innocent child placing their hopes on a cold rock floating forever out of our reach in an endless expanse of nothing. It could tell me of the countless nights that have past, and the nights that are yet to come. It could tell me of ancient secrets that ages have buried, but all I really want to know is if it's really made of cheese.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 11:57 PM UTC
Sometimes I wish the moon could talk, oh the things i could learn. It could tell me about the nights it's shined through my window, illuminating the tear tracks on my face and the regret in my heart. It could tell me about the wishes that have been wasted on it, year after year, child after innocent child placing their hopes on a cold rock floating forever out of our reach in an endless expanse of nothing. It could tell me of the countless nights that have past, and the nights that are yet to come. It could tell me of ancient secrets that ages have buried, but all I really want to know is if it's really made of cheese.
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