The night is filled with starlight,
The night is filled with moonbeams,
The night is filled with dreams,
Whether good or bad,
But the night is filled with souls
Pouring out their sorrows,
So that a tomorrow
Can be had.
It's the only safe place
Where burdens can be laid down,
Where people can lie down
And cry out all their thoughts,
Where they might rock themselves
For comfort never given,
For a life they're not living,
For poetry to be wrought.
That's exactly what I'm doing
At ten to eleven
Underneath the starlit heavens,
Trying to craft a work of art,
Trying to find a thought
Worthy of artistry,
Worthy of some dignity
Before this old day parts.
So in my last efforts,
As my hand grows weary
And my eyes grow teary
From the candlelight,
I try to think of wisdom
That I can instill,
As I feebly will
Myself to give insight.
So, in an unlikely twist
To a once promising piece
I think I can at least
Give advice when looked at twice;
Always give away your last jelly tot
So you give love and don't get fat,
And never dance with the rats
Only dance with the white mice.
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@Delilah
Just an average 17-yr-old from Northern Ireland. Kik: Delilah_95
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My inspiration gets to me at night. I want to write but that does not feel right. I am trying to put a word or two. Just to make you read this and make me something to do.
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