Me, melancholy and the moon,
We gather in the midnight's hour.
We discuss the scars, old and new.
What else can I do besides crying my eyes out?
I almost touched the happiness
Before I already found grief by my side.
It never really ends,
Sometimes my heart aches too much and sometimes it's not even there.
YOU ARE READING
Sad poet's mad poetry
PoetryMy eyes don't talk chico So I write poetry in hopes of being heard.
