Red isn't always romance, sometimes it's blood,
Moon isn't always for lovers, but sometimes for secret cries,
Flowers aren't always for marriage, but sometimes for grave,
Petals aren't always soft,
sometimes they prick the soul.
No plagiarism/No hat...
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you hide behind trees follow him along silent streets of his loneliness like you're left, there's brokenness, yet you whisper soft fluffy tales of unrequited fantasies to yourself afraid of being thrown away, sad, gloomy days, you pray to eros for your agape to become fruits of fortune for him, serendipitous desires, devotion pure as if to the sun god, fondness, cravings and adorations of your little lily, lucifer.
you paint those tears on your canvas, with your blood, barren, broken, sighs of grief, falling leaves, love is blind and deaf, you weep and weep, reaching out that sun which is no more there at your lonely nights.
it's dark now isn't it? the gloom you feel, memorising it from the library of your stories untold, esoteric, how long will it be?
fight, you have the right to let him know what he did, show that stagnant hatred and love, any, just don't burn in that hidden agony for your soul still has a shine demons can't devour.
the moon still watches everything silenly, like a movie of your life, stealthy, yet it's there, hiding all your secrets within itself which you don't share to the world for the world is judgemental who even believes what we say?
but the moon listens to your scared sacred silent screams, shattering, scattering skies, eyes dripping, weeping, drenching, painting the bruise blue from red.
the sky says how strong are you for still being in the journey hopeless, lunatic lonely, yet your poetry sings melancholic melody.
don't be afraid for the moonlight guides to the destiny gate, not fret for whatever illusion was that fate, stars shine like signboards, sings, sky rains wet, don't walk on the roads where only thorns await, rather listen to your soul's voice, go find, dream, walk, run, where it's no more afraid.
