The eyes of nights

I always love the moon. The queen of night. The watcher of night. The listener of every man's problems.

And for me, maybe the moon is the witness of the nights where I cry myself to sleep or where I fall asleep smiling like a fool. A witness of the nights where I felt so lonely. A witness of every tiring night I endure.

And the moon is probably the only thing that understands how different people can get at nights. How their thoughts could eat them alive and how hard it is to fall asleep. The moon probably understands how people could feel so empty and lonely at nights.

And maybe the moon understands what I feel now. Maybe it understands what I cannot say in words. Maybe it understands how it feels like to be so empty and scared and confused. Maybe it understands why sometimes I cry myself to sleep at night. Maybe it knows whom I miss at nights. Maybe it knows about all the people I think about most of the nights.