Fading

This crescent moon is not my home where I sit peering over the ledge down on everyone. 
I wish I could rise into power with no control and a subtle operation. 
Apart from the earth games. 
Pass around the knife and cut yourselves. 
Plant the growing pain and sew your eyes shut. 
What are you so afraid of? 
Who do you think is not watching you? 
And hurting far away? 
This is all wrong and it hurts. 
I guess this is goodbye.