There was a time when I used to wear
my heart on my hair.
To be more exact, on a hairpin
pinned to my hair,
but that was a long time ago,
before I learned all I now know.

I remember how you used to reach
for the moon every night, and you’d cry
because you couldn’t snatch it away from the sky.
I don’t know if you ever learned that the moon is not up for grabs
or is it just that you’ve stopped keeping tabs…
To know your thoughts, I’d give a penny,
do tell please, was it one moonrise too many?

Once this abandoned piece of junk broke ground
flying at the speed of sound.
A mighty sonic flying machine
iron beast soaring the skies
now all that remains is a skeleton,
a testament to its own demise.

Photo manipulation by Christophe Huet


Alien, alienated. That's me.

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