My Moonwords

In moonlight, I write.

I am sleepless, I am tired. 

The words skrechting on papers loud at night. 

I feel and I feel and I feel.

I am leaking life. 

I love my creativity and I hate that I never make something out of it.

I hold myself in a chamber. 

My words as weapon, my pride as an armor. 

Smoke fills my lungs like past fills my mind. Let me get rid of it. The habits and the pain.

My inconsistency so permanent, 

My doubts so paralyzing

Who should I be 

if.

By Lia

From: Germany