The flight of the new moon

The waking fears pass the hour,
cloaked in their scarlett haze.
The bright new moon parts the showers,
falling to my drifting gaze.

A stifling scream an open book,
play upon my rampant mind.
Delving back to to dare a look,
the past holds things I hope not find.

The missing moon flys its course,
all across the drying sky.
It keeps me company, no remorse
These eyes won't close untill I die.

I pray for sleep, I dream awake,
Knowing that soon day will come.
There comes a time to face mistakes,
To pay for things wished undone.

So give me things to laugh and smile,
rest me from things I have found.
Then take them back after a while,
and bury me beneath the ground.