The Moon

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The moon, a bruised an battered star, lays restlessly among the constellations. Hoping that the sun won't beat down so hard this time and strip her of her glowing beauty. Radiant anf bright, shes a delicate jewel, anchored down by Earth's gravitational pull.

She fears the coming days as her time waxes and wains. Slipping over and out, past the craters in her face.

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