looney
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The hair of my arms turned,
I know this collision of arms is inevitable,
Yet my mind spins like a ferris wheel gone rogue,
A correction must be made to my limbs,
Wrong, this is wrong; tears pry their way out
I am the moon
When the light fades
And the world turns a blind eye,
I become alive.
I show myself to only the darkness,
Ane become
The soul of the night.
The stars puncture the darkness
