I am at a loss on how to begin this poem.
But I will not hide like shape shifters,
Who have made the night their sanctuary,
And glowed from the brightness of stars.
I shall speak for the moons that shines dim in the night sky.
They are the crystals
Whose balls have been tossed from feat to feet,
Till their glimmer glooms,
And their breath is left on the verge of death.
Alas! Many are in tears,
As these shape shifters have become a seal of sorrow.
Finding shinning lights and sapping them till they become the lords of stark darkness.
They are confident robbers,
For their fruits are beautifully strange,
And you can hardly know them until you have devoured them,
For they are pleasing to the eyes and distasteful to the buds.
They will shock you in ways your wisdom knoweth not
And commit you in chains to sadness and shame.
I have seen these scenes play pictures of wretchedness
Where stars was known to twinkle
And moon was seen to beam.
I am at a loss on how to end this poem.
So I'd leave you to discover how you're a moon,
Whose light is continuously sought by killjoys.
As such...
Beware!
#El_Magnifico™
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