My moon is calm, yet not collected.
My moon is a crisp Autumn leaf.
My moon holds all the dreams you could possibly wish for.
My moon is and always will be the death of me.
My moon is my Mother,
My Father,
My pain,
And love for anyone who has wanted it.
My moon does not love me, but is there to remind me,
Of all my pain that is and, was ever to become.
