through feathered pens inked with blood and a scarred soul of overflowing abysmal ideologies; there sits an obscured entity, scribbling metaphors and ironies in a crumpled paper of her chaos, seeking for something out of all nothings.
and here she u...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
the moon incessantly witnessed everything, didnʼt it?
i have always wondered if the celestial and ever-so-incandescent moon felt traumatized after having to inadvertently hearken every reverberating caterwaul and every silent whisper of grievance, slowly metamorphosing into a pale and cadaverous acquaintance to march with an entityʼs lethargic waltz towards the cessation of its existence.
i have always wondered if, mayhap, the moon showed its cries and sympathy through every bleeding luminescence of its moonbeams seeping out of its ashen aureole, tears pouring relentlessly with the companionship of the rainʼs crestfallen cloudburst.
i have always wondered if the moon begged for the stars to flicker all of their scintillation to stop these mortals from yielding onto the temptation of the beguiling proposition of this beautiful thing they call death - to desperately let every soulless soul witness the fascinating ethereality they could never behold again once they succumb onto a sepulchral bargain of eternal euphoria.
i have always wondered how many self-slaughter the moon have beheld in its enfeebled eyes after observing, after following each of their stories; every abuse, every escapade, every disheartening laugh, every empty eye, every forbidden love, every cherished moment, every rebellion, every drunken foolishness, every heartbeat, every sloppy kiss, every late night drive, every adventure - every worthwhile flash of memory when the moon saw these souls genuinely living a life in the midst of the chaotic world sleeping in a tranquil slumber.
and i have always wondered if the moon wanted to die with them, too.
