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Showing posts from July 18, 2015

Ashes from Half a Moon

Blind eyes of the night, Half a moon to gaze at, Half a moon to cry for.
She steps on broken hearts, Pieces of fierce glass That used to be mirrors.
She walks a little too close To the burning walls of hell. The gates will burn too; The fire can no longer contain The wave of iced hearts.
She picks the broken pieces Till her fingers bleed, Till those walls turn to ashes. She steps on the ashes, Till they embrace the ground Till one can no longer tell Ashes from the soil.
A slow death, she says, Is the cure to all pain. And her last world is  Now ash, soil and blood.
She flies to a new world, Of iced hearts and blind eyes. Half a moon to gaze at, Half a moon gazing back.