The creation of a world,
A world where the only things that are alive are the creatures of the night.
As the moon silently peeps down at us through the feathery clouds, The stars glint like diamond crystals embedded in sand on a dark lonely beach.
The silence of the night, the peacefulness of being alone,
Of being far away from the troubles of the days passed and the days to come.
Inviting feelings of the darkness, and cold.
The undying feeling of melancholy,
The feelings of something you fail to understand,
Something you fail to explain or even try to decipher.
The few hours of being completely you,
Of being all that you ever wanted to be, no stress, no problems.
Just the beauty of the darkness, the welcoming loudness of the silence,
The feelings of feeling but never really feeling.
That one moment where it never matters any more to care only to feel.
Living in a moment is one thing,
Getting attached is another.
Getting too attached that sleep is no longer important,
Just an inconvenience of nightly slumber.
During these few hours so much matters,
It all matters until the sunrise replaces the moon's beautiful glitter.
~Alis Grace.
YOU ARE READING
ALIS GRACE
PoetryTHE CONFUSION OF A PERSON, OF A THING; A NEW IDENTITY, A NEW LIFE OF WHAT IS THERE TO BRING, THE STORY OF A PERSON WHO HAS LOST EVERYTHING, A NEW DRAMA PEICE IN THIS WORLD OF SIN. QUEUES OR LINES, FEAR AND LOVE WHAT IS TO BE EXPECTED IN THIS BOOK VI...
