The Uncertainty Of Breaking The Sky

There's a moon made of stone uhtceare in my head.

Where my brain used to be.

My thoughts,like shooting stars.

Crash against it and leave craters of paranoia.

Fear is the impact I soon embrace.

All for a reason I know exist.

Not absolutely.

As the sun arises from behind a skyline.

My heart beats against my insides.

These pupils shrink like my rationality.

And I want to run away from an eternal star my moon can't keep from exploding.

A starry night with cracks in it.

Soon to be no more.

We all want to see tomorrow.

But will it be ok not to if you're blind?

I can't foresee the future that will be.

Though I depend on the one that is a possibility.

So when the sun comes and blows up my whole world.

I'll burn in its bright future.

Certain to be blinded by it.

And I'll be left hopelessly fearful.

As I scream and cry to my broken night sky.

For a day's beginning is my possible end.