Blood Moon

I don't know how to tell you the moon is full

when you've only ever see the half of what is.

You are the phases of moon that will never reach completion.

There is no togetherness in the reality of your shadow.

When the moon is full and the sky bright with possibility,

where will you be?

In shadows, under a blood red moon.

Loudly muttering to yourself

all the crimes you've perceived against you.

I suppose of all the moons this one suits you best.

You, hungering for justice that never seems to satisfy the blood lust you bathe in.

I don't know how to tell you to want to fight for all of us

when you've never seen us in the first place.

There is only you. There is only hardness. There is only death.

But that is the justice you crave.

I suppose there is no light in this shadow you've cast now is there?