RMC

I see the distant moon.
I know it well.
I’ve seen it from my room,
twisting making me dwell in hell.

In the inner thoughts
one will as one may not
in the real world time is forgot
yet even after me the moon will rot.

In the chasm of gravity upheld
into a tomb close to my heart
is a wound that has suffered me hell
and with the pain I’ll never part.

So affix your eyes on it soon
again at night sometimes even noon
where eyes have looked in both passion, gloom;
I have seen before from my room such moon.