I keep burying my face in my hands, they’re too small to block much.
I’ve no idea what I'm wishing to see when I remove my fingers.
Will I find darkness or light?
Complaints or acceptance?
There’s magic in the moonlight. I speak my truths, carve them into wet concrete and then fear I am a liar.
I’ll live a cynic with disillusioned eyes, shaking with the promise of true enthusiasm as I always will when it’s directed towards me.
Contentment doesn’t harmonize with the air I breath and I invent what I can’t feel.
What did you think
Comments
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wow i love ur line "there's magic inthe moonlight" its great!! this pom is really good!! i love it.. what were u thinking about when u wrote it
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