Journal Of The Fallen

A Twisted Fairytale

Let me tell you a story,
About a girl who controlled the moon,
Who never saw the light,
Only the darkness that would consume.

Let me tell you a tale,
About a boy who hated light,
Who fell in love with the girl,
Crowned ruler over the night.

He's never seen such beauty,
But she doesn't know at all,
While she wipes away her tears,
As the sun begins to fall.

To him she's like a goddess,
She's got everything worked out,
But he's sadly unaware,
Of her own self-conscious doubt.

He's never had the courage to tell her,
But he plans to tell her soon,
As he sits impatiently by the window,
Waiting for the moon.

She wakes up already defeated,
Filled with voices in her head,
That continue their constant wailing,
Making her wish that she was dead.

She feels tired of it all,
And she feels devoid of spark,
Not understanding the reason,
For the beating of her heart.

With the rising of the moon,
He runs to tell her everything,
Clutching flowers to his chest,
That he tied with a moonstone string.

Sighing she takes a knife,
And begins cutting until she's dead,
Making the boy stop in horror,
As the moon turns blood red.

Fearing the safety of the girl,
He runs and busts down her door,
Only to find the pool of blood,
Surrounding her on the floor.

The next day his heart feels heavy,
As if her death was all his fault,
As he dresses for her funeral,
Through the tears that refuse to stop.

Let me tell you a tale,
About a boy who controls the moon,
But who now hates the night,
For it always reopened an old wound.

The moral of this tale is simple,
You may think no one will care,
But please don't wait till the last moment,
Because that time will not always be there.