It is already a night time.

The moon is tearing apart, sinking into darkness, getting heavy and cold. Stars are pulsing with this timid light and one can not know if it is already time to cry out all those sorrows and pain. Sky is turning into immense dark ocean with sun goodnight-kissed waves. Everyone is sleeping, but one still can not know if it is already the right time. The eyes are looking up and the ocean pours all its salty water to them. Too much of it. One can not hold that much of the ocean and the water starts to burst onto those cheeks, cleaning the soul and burning an entire face. It hurts. It hurts a lot. Madly. Insanely. But one still can not know if it is already the time. The right time.