February 10, 2013
By Anonymous

The moon is like his life,
It shines through the fog,
It's beam cutting the gray sky,
Above like an upside-down ocean,
Where my happiness has drowned,
Because it couldn't catch the moon.

The gravel crunches under me boot,
I cannot feel my legs,
The wind whips me cheek,
And I don't flinch; I deserve it,
The trees grimace through fog,
Pointing their branches at me,
As if tell the police where I am,
The sky weeps for me,
I turn my head up,
Mixing my tears with the sky's,
Cold and salty.

I see a light heading towards me,
On the country road,
Where I killed him:
I was driving,
He wasn't wearing his seat belt,
Oh God!
The light is like the moon,
It shines on me and lights me up,
I'm like the sun,
I jump from the side of the road,
And make an eclipse.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Feb. 14 2013 at 10:52 pm
TheSkyOwesMeRain GOLD, Irvine, California
13 articles 1 photo 303 comments

Favorite Quote:
Life isn't measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments which take your breath away.

You are only as strong as your weakest link.

Great, wonderful imagery. I particularly liked the guilt and the grief that was shown throughout this poem, and the new perspective. We typically don't get to see the person-at-fault's point of view. 


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