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I catch the stars as they fall from the sky, Each of them is a sparkle of 'why?' I brush the space dust with a broom, To tidy the hair of the man on the moon. I catch satellites as they whirl, As the lack of communication makes me hurl. I swipe the light into the black hole, To show the deep deep cold. My hand waves the gravity away, As all weight fades fade fades.
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
Milkyway
I catch the stars as they fall from the sky, Each of them is a sparkle of 'why?' I brush the space dust with a broom, To tidy the hair of the man on the moon. I catch satellites as they whirl, As the lack of communication makes me hurl. I swipe the light into the black hole, To show the deep deep cold. My hand waves the gravity away, As all weight fades fade fades.
lydia-pinder
Written by
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
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