If we shone as bright as that which did the moon,
Our beauty would be bright enough to burn all the stars.
But if all the stars became envious,
Then they would stab her with their points and become lost in their sickening truth.
For it not be that the loved had killed the hated but by that,
his name and face,
so beautiful,
had murdered the entity by which he swore he would never harm.
Because when Nightfall does arrive,
No amount of light could cover the blanket of darkness
And no amount of light could uncover the truth.
Be it not that she was darkness but that he was too bright,
Her being.
a shadow
In the nightfall.
YOU ARE READING
The Ways in Which We Think
PoetryA collection of poems, thoughts and outburst that I have written in hopes to reassure those who are unsure about living, each piece is about a certain aspect of my life and as a person who struggles with both emotional and mental health issues I wan...
