Can I trust you;
The phrase overworks on a moonlit night.
I look at the moon and hurriedly scoff,
Though I was worriedly lumping the cough.
The Moon flushes,
How dare you laugh at me,
I live so bright and dive at heights,
My face a beautiful sight with umpteen worshippers at night.
Oh pretty moon,
Glittering stars fashioning bright outfits flanking you;
Desperate faces begging your radiance;
Infinite lovers paying limitless encomiums;
Sniggering diatribes by envious detractors;
Swathes of love and flooding of attention Yet,
Does anyone remember you on a moonless night.
I look at the moon and hurriedly scoff,
Though I was already worriedly lumping a cough.
I looked away as Moon looks at me.
Now, it was time for Moon to scoff.
Yeah, my life ain’t better than yours.
Can I trust you, the moon asks;
Oh just don’t, humans are incredibly wicked,
prodigiously demonic, magnanimously glib,
outstandingly gloat, wondrously snivel,
refreshingly insipid, majestically blimp,
and romantically a rumbustious spectre.
Are you, the moon asks;
Now, it was time for both of us to scoff.
This place is a terrible overcrowding;
Like the craters on your face,
Misplaced and Ubiquitous;
Here with trust and isolation.
Dawn breaching our dalliance, I make a final scoff;
On a moonless night I will remember you, and scoff.
A promise I make as an overworking phrase,
Can I trust you knocks me off.