I hear the echo of my own faded laughter,
Mocking me through the night,
Now there's no one to laugh with, my only captor,
Is the cold white moonlight.
It filters through the bare branches,
And enters my windowpane,
It shines on my damp pillow,
Thinking my tears are rain.
It throws itself onto my skin,
Making shadows in the dark,
My skin ignites itself to glisten,
Using moonlight as its spark.
Its unnerving to see me pale,
Illuminated by the moon's glow,
I don't want to be the screen,
For its bitter midnight show.
