you can tell me not to cry when it rains from the storms i've created for myself but there's no purpose in telling a flower not to wilt. 

a flower i wish i could be instead of a weed growing in the yards of those who sympathize to lesser souls. hanging around for as long as i can before inevitably rooted from the shadows of the moonlight with that of my last breath.  not good enough. not good enough. not good enough. the echos bellow through the mirage of a tunnel painted on the wall i foolishly believe is a path. walking toward a dead end for the hundredth time wondering why i nevernoticed until now that no one else has the paint stained to their bodies.   a relapse to a forgotten era.  if only the moon realized how much the sun loved it. maybe she would stop running. i wish i could tell you. perhaps i'm scared you'll see me the way i see myself. there's reasons the moon runs from the sun. the reason the moon hides in the dark. accompanied by nothing but the rain clouds who cry for the moon who cannot.there's danger in finding a storm beautiful. there's danger in being addicted to the raiN.