Deep & Tragic

Very few stars claim a place in the night sky, the cool breeze whispers.
The shimmering onyx satin cries for a beloved moon.
The past mirrors every step, lost memories dance across a film reel in your mind.
You often wonder how you could have left the comfort of your home in wonderland for another living nightmare.
Another cliché presents itself to you, as you escape back to neverland.
It made sense once, a long time ago.
When every cliché had a story and we never seemed to run out of rhymes.
Visit the grave of poetry, long dead and decaying.
There were ashes of something beautiful scattered to the wind, laid to rest in the sea.
They don't remember that story, the past that follows me in the sand.