How poignant your eyes. The juices of your life, Have withered and ******. You've starred at the sun too long. No glee you've found in her sights, Just intangible regality, And mundane morality.
Scared behold the sky, You lose yourself in every passing cloud. And dream your soul to find, Hence in a starry night.
This is a first draft and like all first drafts, it's ******.