Under the Abused Old Moon

Looking into my mirror today,

My reflections are solely sworn.

If I see more than I can say,

I feel as though I'm drowning thorns.

Little sounds exceed my call,

For only they can have my life,

For only I can have it all.

Little horns betray my knife.

Why do songs replay again?

Why do flowers die so soon?

Daisies kill the strongest men,

Under the abused old moon.

Days will come when mirrors true,

Every day will make you fly.

Make me say what I will do,

Sun shine still, as though I sigh.

Dawning now, angry shiners,

So as to hold the blades.

Singing now at little diners,

Hearts protected from setting raids…