Have you grasped all the things I said I was,
in the middle of the night of 4th August?
Thinking I was as brutal as I claimed in the moonlight,
showing you all the shades of outrage
tying to be undesirable for one night.
Was I pretending to be the girl you hated,
wasn’t I in the glow that looked like the one you manifested?
Did I rewrite my character to reveal this side of me,
was I trying hardly?
Why didn’t you let me go then?
In the clouds all dark to cover me all black,
I know it would be uneasy to stay
with a cloud raining even when the sun is on its way.