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some shitty poem

(Moon)light My Cigarette

I make a wish so that the moon will pierce through the night cloud,
Like a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass,
And the shadows that, like Death, make me be not proud,
Are scampering and running from me like cowards in mass.

The moonbeam circles 'round like a wolf taunting its prey,
I think nothing of it and let the beam light my cheap cigarette,
As I smoke the beauty and majesty of the moon away,
I shout, "When is it suppose to get any better, yet?"