The December 12, Beneath the glow of the full moon's radiance, Wrecked, stained reminiscences lay, Dull in the brilliant full. In a gentle night's breeze With a sense of rage howling, The fragmented selves Averted their eyes Warded off their thoughts Not to catch others’ off guard. A soft red jumper, jersey, and a beanie Wreathed in laughter, And the other sad eyes Giggled with a bright smile, The play was decent None would be suspicious. Yet only the brightest full moon witnessed, the caved in souls.
Meant for you, my unspoken words.