Ray of moonlight

Fifty people in a row,

not a single wants to grow,

fifty people in their chairs,

of whom all life scares.

Thinking of a fragile girl,

she had her beloved boy,

crying over fucking world,

where the beauty was to die.

And my brain still doesn’t get it,

her vanishing from the physicals,

yet for long she’s been buried,

making me a bit cynical…

…about who’s alive now,

and who’s dead living,

whether praise raise till down,

when it may all be given…