You walk under frosty moonlight
As though the cold doesn't sting
But you've grown so used to wounds,
And the scars this world, to you, brings
Maybe the cold is like a hug,
Warmer than any touch you know,
Or maybe you simply crave company,
Which you find in the moon's silent glow
For the moon doesn't question,
Surely it only listens
And maybe that's what you need,
Until your eyes start to glisten
You tell it of all your fears,
The times you wanted to leave this world,
Of how you wear a mask of strength,
But beneath, you're simply a broken little girl.
