Sure skeptist

The moon moaned at the mood of the night
The loose road was a friend to the kite
It made frost for the good of the light
Mimicked ghosts at the verge of delight

Sluggish sunrays smudged me all day
Polished Thursdays crossing floodgates
The scenes wont skip,the sins too cheap
We still pull strings,the teens drool hymns

"The edifice is a shell",I whispered to myself
The centerpiece of the shelf was tilted to the left
I hearkened to my call.Despite that,i was hurt
The forces of my flaws were packing like a bus

"The edifice is a flag I hoisted on the bridge"
I stood up from the lounge like a king on the beach
I so raced down the sand, I was making a ditch
Giving it all it took, like a coach near the pitch

Kept tripping in the mud, interested in the truth
Marched thistles at the shore, invested in their roots
Made red paths on my lane, it was too late to halt
Was gazing at the sea that blessed my wounds with salt

"The edifice is a nest",I whispered to myself
"I m almost topping it",I guessed these words were Jeff"s.
I don't know what I saw, but it was in my niche.
The moon moaned at my mood, my efforts bringing zilch.