Moth Harris

Moth Harris Poems

It's the ghost in the mirror, the shadow in the corner of the room.
The cascading thoughts that drift through my mind so steadily.
It breaks and scrapes, takes away, again, again, another day.
It's where you are, what you've become, darkness.
...

When you charge me with this accusations
It only tears away at me
You're the one who braught me up from down
Don't be the one to make me bleed
...

Wrapped in black
Old, dirty, dusty, damaged
Held inside is something beautiful
A cold vacant stare
...

4.

I tried to write the perfect words for you
Still sometimes I just don't know what to do
What I go through isn't a matter of doubt
or wondering if I'm in love
...

Embers light the fire
Brake down the bark
Fueling heart and desire
Lost from the start
...

Hearts bleed a beautiful red, like a curtain to our love
We walk through slowly like we don't even hear a sound
With each step we take new comfort and salvation is found
We walk together like we don't have a care in the world
...

I've stared out this dirty smudged window many times before
I've seen many nicely dressed people but none go through this door
but I guess that's how life is when you're poor
You don't got money but atleast you don't know what it's for
...

I look in your eyes
They're faded now
and to my surprise
The sun won't rise
...

When will you see
It's not up to you and me
and life's not perfect
It was never meant to be
...

They say hold the ones you love
When your heart is feeling blue
But when your heart is broken
What do you do
...

11.

The air is brisk, but refreshing to the touch.
I grasp it with my fingertips and let it get swept away.
I say, today, is not long enough. Too cold here
yet so beautiful. White like your wings, they take me away.
...

I said 'hey hey woah! '
Where'd you go girl?
Where'd you go?
Nothing but endless dial tone
...

The hour glass lets a few grains pass
On the few last hours in my past
Where I gasped in the vast ocean
I grasped your hand and you asked
...

It all winds down
Ever winding
Ever winding,
A little town
...

It takes a lot of thought to see that the person who we are
Is so far away from the person who we used to be
Your opinions can all be the same
You can still feel alone or misunderstood
...

Just three brothers connected not by blood
Ones alone and the others can always see
the long sleeves that cover up how he bleeds
because he's lost what his heart needs
...

Now I know you feel empty there's not much to say.
I just want to know how you feel, right now, today.
I just want you to know how I feel, and what it means.
So listen my darling, my love, and my angel.
...

I shut my door and put my head down
I sigh and I turn away
I wish someone would just understand
what I am trying to say
...

It's been so long, why don't you get out?
You don't seem to understand what I'm trying to say.
I felt so wrong, why did you get out?
If you wanted to take it back today?
...

Live like an angel with burnt and charred wings
The honesty that truth brings has carried you far away from here
everything that we had dear has been shattered like glass
I look to my past and see that you never could see at all
...

Moth Harris Biography

My name is Timothy Michael Harris, Normally called Tim. I use Moth as my writers name because I figure it would be far less common than Tim Harris. I got Moth from tiMOTHy, and use it as sort of a nickname. I enjoy spending time with friends and family, and I write to express my emotion and opinion. I hope to become a great writer someday. I grew up in the suburbs of Detriot, a little town called White Lake. The lake is beautiful in the summer time, I spend a lot of time there on an old cement bridge writing poetry. I'm the guy who spends time watching the sunset out of windows and feeling a passion for life afterwards. I'm still a kid however, and I have much to learn. I hope that one day I will achieve my dreams, I hope that one day my name will be known for captivating peoples hearts and minds. )

The Best Poem Of Moth Harris

#100 - Faction

It's the ghost in the mirror, the shadow in the corner of the room.
The cascading thoughts that drift through my mind so steadily.
It breaks and scrapes, takes away, again, again, another day.
It's where you are, what you've become, darkness.
It's a memory that rests in me, the forgotten, the fools.
Old weapons, just tools. A broken butter knife, made of plastic.
The sense of things that do not condence,
A mirror with no reflection, the blindness of night.
Light or dark has no preception of wrong or right.

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