For When The Moon is Brighter Than The Sun
She said I was the sun, I was the moon.
She told me I was 'old enough'. yet it was far too soon.
She lured me in with warmth, and had taught me so.
Even after sunburn, I couldn't see letting her go.
I was seen as the darkness, or so she had said;
but I brought light when it were right- didn't matter how she were fed.
She didn't care if I were dead! She was always so tough...
All she ever saw was red! so yelling wasn't enough...
Yet the warmth is what I craved-
something trouble could never have saved.
So now I sit in my room, I a faint light in the dark;
yet her past whispers in my ear are now nothing but a bark.
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