"Metaphorphosis"
An empty bed is relevant to its single guest.
All the stars and planets aline and the moon seems to shine down specifically on you, and tell you,
"You, sir, are alone."
Never expected me to get out of my bed.
Never expected me to shout to the heavens,
"Good!"
Never expected me to end this facade on a gracious note
I've listened to the moon long enough.
For its the real tragedy. Its lover burns in the distance, for all to see, bathing life in its warmth
but He's always out of reach.
Not even close.
You, and the moon, read like an encyclopedia.
A random ejaculation of facts and details, filling up pages and pages,
but you've got no real story to tell.
No plot, no ending, and the hero has no nemesis.
Ever seen a hero with no villain to battle?
It's like an empty bed. |
Loading...