The sun with the clouds,
the moon with the stars,
it all makes sense.
But sometimes,
they change masks too quickly
and she gets confused.
The moon isn’t bright enough
to compete with the suns fire.
The fluffy clouds only block the beauty
of the moon’s gleam.
Day lillys begin to blossom at night,
they can’t tell the difference.
The pain from nightmares is persistant
without reason.
Insomnia feeds off of the confusion.
She begs for the sun and moon
to return to their time,
but greed plugs their ears,
as they both want to be the center.
Depression gnaws at her skin.
Sun cannot replenish her.
Moon cannot bring her sleep.
Shooting stars are lost wishes,
rainbows lost promises,
they never cared until they saw the quake.