I am a ghost shadowed by the moon,

Howling out at the endless night,

Getting covered in a gray mist of fleeting fog,

Looking out over the horizon to the setting sun in its embers of purple and orange cascading into an ombre sky.

The birds migrating across the moon to another light until it rises again.

A crying child awoken by its own self.

The awakening personifications of lullabies around.

A book with no more pages to turn,

A night that is so blistered with love that it seems everlasting.

Morning moments of brief instances that stain the most in your memory.

Love and hate,

Beauty and ugliness,

Reality and Fantasy,

Life and its scripted nostalgia.

Life and what you make of it.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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