the night beckons, her stars call to us,
praying that their stories be heard
before fiery cores turn to stone,
and the light fizzles out;
and you'll whisper, 'god ****
i've never felt so alone,'
because that's what we'll be,
out there in the darkness,
alone.
and with no stories left to tell,
we wonder what will become of us,
these star-children,
who have witnessed much in the life
of celestial bodies, compared them to our own;
and someday, our cores – our hearts,
will stop beating – turning into the heaviest of stone.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
the night beckons, her stars call to us,
praying that their stories be heard
before fiery cores turn to stone,
and the light fizzles out;
and you'll whisper, 'god ****
i've never felt so alone,'
because that's what we'll be,
out there in the darkness,
alone.
and with no stories left to tell,
we wonder what will become of us,
these star-children,
who have witnessed much in the life
of celestial bodies, compared them to our own;
and someday, our cores – our hearts,
will stop beating – turning into the heaviest of stone.
Request permission to use this poem