Oh, how she loves the moon, as it clings to the dark, blanketed sky.
It stands alone as the stars scatter, but its light is beautiful.

Oh, how she loves the thunder and the night lightning.
Awed by it, she's never seen anything more beautiful—
how it lights her darkness.

The sound of the rain represents her,
how the clouds cry for her,
since she ran out of tears.
Nothing like a thunderclap could alighten her fears.
It rushes blood to her veins and reminds her that she's still here...

Among the living, where she watches people and feelings disappear.
Were they even there?
Rotting away, leaving their memories behind.
A scar added to the wound...
she's scared of loving too much... a fool.
She's rare...

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I posted that on my status.

Like...that is my soul.

I always write my soul, over here, in this poem book🥲