The Mourning Sunrise
What difference does it make? she screams at the top of her lungs off that cold mountain top to the moon that has turned it's shadowed sholder to her. She stares at those twinkling stars winking, caught up in their own innocence--mocking her with it. She haes them, everything in this big perfectly flawed place. Everything has turned to fools gold and everyone has turned to fools. My mouth and my money. Why can't i speak up? Tomorrow's another day, but i dearly wish it weren't. This cold night air puffs like steam out an angry engine tossing it's problems into the atmosphere. I wonder where this world got its arrogance.