We are the night sky,
Both dark and light.
The clouds up high,
Muddy the sight.
Our stars they shine,
In that dark abyss.
Beauty so fine,
That many will miss.
The lights go out,
And we're left with the night.
Too tired to shout,
Nothing left to fight.
So we let the dark consume,
And lay our stars to rest.
We accept our doom,
And believe that it's for the best.
YOU ARE READING
Almost a poet
PoetryI'm trying my luck at poetry so it'd be great to get some feedback. Keep in mind that these poems are strongly related to depression, anorexia, and things of that sort. If you are recovering, this story is not recommended for you.
