brighter day

Instantly before I even start reading this I see is lacks stanzas and punctuation.
You need both of these things, no exception. It stands alone as a block of text, with no form, no arms. It is like a body without limbs, it has no bones and slumps like a sack.
I could write poetry about lack of structure all day but I am here to review you so review I will do.
I think the best thing I can do for you is to reformat your poem, as I find it incredibly hard to review without any sort of layout and fix up punctuation and some other stuff while I'm at it.

The sun shone bright;
quite possibly brighter
than it had ever shone before.

Only it didn't shine on me,
it seemed to purposely
exclude me from receiving it's radiance.

Instead a cloud poured itself
over me, and infected my person.
When I spoke instead of happy words
the faint callings of a desperate soul were heard.

My soul was hollow, lay desolate,
there was nothing left to give or take.
My withering but not withered soul
relinquished all capacity, to think to the cloud
the cloud was now my master.

The moon, unlike the sun
is foolish and desperate.
It doesn't shine so bright as the sun
because many ages of rotten souls
have laid it barren.

At night you can hear
it's calls of desperation.
See its outstretched arms,
only those who hear
wallow in its despair and gloom.

The sun is raw and exposes with pride
the worlds rotten, tortured, hateful souls.
It watches over.
A rotten soul cannot take
too much sun, it kills its evil
so they hide in darkness
until night where they can be happy again.

Overall reformatted version.

The sun shone bright;
quite possibly brighter
than it had ever shone before.

Only it didn't shine on me,
it seemed to purposely
exclude me from receiving it's radiance.

Instead a cloud poured itself
over me, and infected my person.
When I spoke instead of happy words
the faint callings of a desperate soul were heard.

My soul was hollow, lay desolate,
there was nothing left to give or take.
My withering but not withered soul
relinquished all capacity, to think to the cloud
the cloud was now my master.

The moon, unlike the sun
is foolish and desperate.
It doesn't shine so bright as the sun
because many ages of rotten souls
have laid it barren.

At night you can hear
it's calls of desperation.
See its outstretched arms,
only those who hear
wallow in its despair and gloom.

The sun is raw and exposes with pride
the worlds rotten, tortured, hateful souls.
It watches over.
A rotten soul cannot take
too much sun, it kills its evil
so they hide in darkness
until night where they can be happy again.

Meihn Fuhr!
This piece is fluent. It was some what confusing with no stanzas and no clear ending of the stanza. Luckily, your capitalisation made it clear enough. It's dark. To me,atleast. It comes to how you think of it. I say it shines in my mind, not exactly my life. I get called weird for using the word "Ditto."
It's a nice little read
Dr.Strangelove gives it
"Heil! 7.1/10"
Keep it up

Hi there... I have to say, this was a pleasure to read! It was well written, crisp ane the message was clear. There were a few grammatical issues such as the misuse of the "its" tense. In addition, due to the YWS set up, there were no stanzas. I can't criticize you for this, however, considering the amount of times this has happened to me. I think that this was really, truly beautiful though, and I especially enjoyed reading the lines such the line, "the moon, unlike the sun is foolish". I don't know why, but I was enamored by that line. Iiked most of the lines, but that was definitely my favorite. Overall, I enjoyed reading this and my only suggestions are that you re-read this and check for simple errors that take away from the fluidity of this piece.