Wolves Cry Moon

The moon shines in through my window at night, it helps me feel like I’m not so alone after all. But it’s not because millions of other people could be looking at it too, and it’s not even because I might be looking at it at the same time as you, but instead, even amidst the darkest of nights, it will be shining with or without the clouds. The clouds are only a means to make you appreciate her moon lit nights, and the moon only goes behind them to get a break from all the gazes so longing, and sighs so heavy. She bears the weighted thoughts of all the lonely souls and insomniac dreamers, crying out to her relentlessly, “Why?” But even when she goes away, she hears them calling, to come back to her willowed spot in the sky. Weeping, to wear that sorrow like a halo’s crown for all the broken-hearted to admire, to do her duty and listen to her wolves cry moon, no matter the tears she cries. To show the world that pain is the most beautiful reflection of joy.

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