DarlaTheWicked

The moon, so dark and deadly, She lashes out and one by one The stars fall from their places, Rushing, floating to their rest Where they can sleep And by a sleep to say we end The heart, the loss, the pain; They burn, But burning wakes the passion Kindled to a flame in hope: What should be hope that dwindles? But a cure could soothe the cold that stings Their blackened souls and darkened eyes. They close too soon As singing fades the consciousness, Escape to depths that suffer not The loss of jealous minds-- It bears them there in self-absorbed evasion; To think no more upon the cause But forget themselves in