The Crying Moon
Mar 4, 2024
I lifted my head and saw the moon crying
It frowned and looked like it had been crying for days
But there it sits, all alone amidst all those textures
How anyone manages not to notice is beyond me
Can someone mend its aching heart?
I looked up twice and I saw it’s gone
It fades away together with its aching heart
But little did it know those aching hearts vanished along with itself
How it manages not to notice is beyond me
Can you mend its aching heart?
No one likes a sinking heart: a heart that feels wrenched with a shaking hand, one that’s unknowingly wounded. No one would go through it willingly, or would one?
Even if there is one, it’s not me. Certainly.
