Death of the Sun Birth of the Moon

The road I’m on, it feels like hell
They that means I’m doing well
Black velvet dreams of nightmare thoughts
Have left us tangled and distraught
Silver bullets leave their marks
Broken hearts tear apart
Pink razors slices across the sun
It’s essence colors the sky
Blue turned purple
White turned gray
Pink goes red
And so fades the light of day
Out goes the sun
On comes the moon
It peers into the gloomy gloom

poem by Vanessa Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!