Night of Despair

I am drowning in my tears on a strange night as the moon watches. Voices, still no one can hear, hollering woes as the wind catches. Sympathy bursts with misery when the prized departs and peters out. I croon the song with downfall melody, as I hail to the loved, begging ‘bout. My moon is clothed with murky billows, can be seen by a hair's breadth. It rests upon the thorn-puffed pillows that cut her hair into its shortest length. Oh, dear moon- the night’s enchantress, heed my plea: in my arms, rest.