Under the starlight, I pale
in insignificance, black of void
swirling hoarse opinions into wind-
blown jests. The playground weeps
its lonely state, like children grown &
forgotten the tugs of solitude. Over
this window, days convinced the nights
to dab the color of age over the skin
of earth. Under no starlight, I seek
rebirth: some child's evaporated whisper
calling moon into being, before the lightening
shades of morning.
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