Conflicting Stars

You'd think the sun would shine brightly, but even the sun feels down too. You'd think the moon hides in the shadows, but it dances so brightly. Moon and Sun are different from what you think.

I lie awake with contemplation,

nothing but the bare ceiling glaring at me.

As the deafening silence dominates my mind,

I hear the sweet, muffled tune of the stars.

Serenading the delicate, blissful moon

It felt all the fame and glory.

The flashing lights and praises directed to the moon,

left the fragile sun with scars.

The sun continued to count the petals of the stained, white rose.

"Death" it cried,

possibly forebode.

If it weren't stained, the white rose would exemplify the moon.

But seeing as it's dirtied, it described the measly sun perfectly. 

I fell asleep on the thoughts of impurity,

I dreamt in certainty,

that I was the sun and you were the moon.