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	Moon. Gone.
	Moon. Gone.


You stare relentlessly at the moon Wondering if the face you wish to see Stares back. But alas, no answer No lead Just nothing So you watch in pain As the moon starts to bleed A blood so thin Thinner than tears Than sweat. Those droplets of blood Hit the ground. Causing tsunamis of sorrow To wash upon the faces Of those once innocent. The blood will drip Until the moon is satisfied. I am the moon. I will never be satisfied Until you are mine. When you understand my sorrow, My pain, My anguish, Then I will stop. As for now, Moving on is not an option. But motivation is scarce. I will tell you now, Only the strong Will survive. I shine for those Who deserve the light. Pure in mind, Clean of conscience, Virgin of militia and malevolency. So may these followers Come forth to see light. As I wait, I count the heads. I have one head. One follower. One puritan. No blood upon her face No sorrow upon her shoulders No pain upon her soul. Pure. But alas, she has yet to love. So it shall be I mustn’t wait I act now. I take my unloved puritian From this damned and cursed world Into the heavens, Higher, The stars, Higher, Gone. Spade6sic6 · Sat Apr 05, 2008 @ 06:10am · 2 Comments


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