The Lune's version. 

I am dark, I am light,
and bruised all o'er.
I am around, round and round,
never leaving your shore.
It started as attraction,
but now only a chore.

You are fresh, you are bright
but patchy all through.
You shake, wave and erupt,
but cared only by a few.
The centre of my world,
but you have yours too.

I'd happily accept
if we crashed together,
in a fury of fire, dirt and ash;
perhaps, giving rise to a shard
of glass, brittle but clear.

But, with each passing tide,
I am pushed away, and one day,
I'll leave you: alone, spinning,
turning your nights dead.

All that is to fear
of the dark side of
moony
will be forgotten, for it is
you my dear Earth, that has been
loony. 

-end-

Background:
This poem gives a first person narration about an abusive relationship between the Earth and the Moon (the narrator). It builds on our perceived connection between lunacy and the Moon, but goes on to point that that is merely the world view and not the Moon's version of events. To the Moon, lunacy is connoted by Earth.   
It also happens to be astrodynamically accurate (says me, with a Masters degree in spaceflight).