The night is blue and the crescent is red…

Those that stalk are bound to be dead.

The curse of heavens loom large,

Surges high as the nerves whisper in the head…

The gait does the commotion…

The eyes train the guns,

The hair locks opened and much more is said…

Silence creeps, the tongue stays composed;

The gusto is such that the brain is exposed.

Those kitty bows black although,

They trick and delude to where no one is led…

Often I felt I should talk…

Talk alongside as they walk…

But moon is never anyone’s possession,

And those they desire end up in shred…

I am fooled and sometimes I love it that way,

Perhaps a fool shall have his day someday;

A long way to go, a long way to tread…

But I am loving it,

The night is blue and the crescent is red.