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Description
It is silent.
The day has been enveloped by stars,
The sun long since gone.
It's too quiet.
The northern star coldly watches from afar,
Peering in through my window.
It's too early for the world to see me,
But the sky doesn't care.
It's as if I was never there.
I press my palm against the glass of my window,
Willing myself to relax
And let the night pass.
But alas,
Morning cannot come soon enough.
Still, I do not turn my gaze from the sliver of the moon,
The silver of the moon,
So hauntingly distant.
I know I will not sleep that night,
But I can't help but try.
I do not move from my window perch, all the same;
I am not yet tame enough to succumb to sleep.
I heave a sigh, a deep breath that started in the corners of my heart.
It feels as though a part of me
Has been torn away to drift aimlessly in the sea of stars.
I wish I would come back home,
The only thing I've ever truly known,
Because people are too hard to understand,
Because my face is as foreign to me as a man's,
And hearts are liable to collapse with knowledge.
I yearn for sleep,
Something withstanding for once,
Not just random bouts of dreams
That end as soon as they begin.
Sort of like those silly fantasies as a child
When your heart was young and wild,
Still yet to understand the meaning of "bitter" and "vile."
The moon seems frozen in place.
I decide wishing for it to move is fruitless,
Just as many impossible wishes are.
Even though I aim to retire for the night,
I probably won't sleep till it's light,
My heart too layered with mourning and loss
And constant hums of "I miss you"
To sleep tonight.
And after all,
One can hardly be expected to sleep in utter silence.

Description
It is silent.
The day has been enveloped by stars,
The sun long since gone.
It's too quiet.
The northern star coldly watches from afar,
Peering in through my window.
It's too early for the world to see me,
But the sky doesn't care.
It's as if I was never there.
I press my palm against the glass of my window,
Willing myself to relax
And let the night pass.
But alas,
Morning cannot come soon enough.
Still, I do not turn my gaze from the sliver of the moon,
The silver of the moon,
So hauntingly distant.
I know I will not sleep that night,
But I can't help but try.
I do not move from my window perch, all the same;
I am not yet tame enough to succumb to sleep.
I heave a sigh, a deep breath that started in the corners of my heart.
It feels as though a part of me
Has been torn away to drift aimlessly in the sea of stars.
I wish I would come back home,
The only thing I've ever truly known,
Because people are too hard to understand,
Because my face is as foreign to me as a man's,
And hearts are liable to collapse with knowledge.
I yearn for sleep,
Something withstanding for once,
Not just random bouts of dreams
That end as soon as they begin.
Sort of like those silly fantasies as a child
When your heart was young and wild,
Still yet to understand the meaning of "bitter" and "vile."
The moon seems frozen in place.
I decide wishing for it to move is fruitless,
Just as many impossible wishes are.
Even though I aim to retire for the night,
I probably won't sleep till it's light,
My heart too layered with mourning and loss
And constant hums of "I miss you"
To sleep tonight.
And after all,
One can hardly be expected to sleep in utter silence.