Once I met an innocent writer
Whose art inspired the lost traveller,
Broken from inside
Hiding the pain that came in sight,
The innocent friend of mine
Loved the Moon as divine.

The Moon, friend of ours
Took the turn to collide our hours,
The night sky, we loved
The bright Moon we always admired,
Leaving in solitude was the only way
As the writer was been hurted always.

The art, the poems, the lines that came,
Maybe fictional but hided the pain,
As a lil kid, with a kind...