stars race across the night sky. people watch in awe, admire from afar, and write songs about it. but then it crashes and burns out. like you and me.
a child at a fair begs for ice-cream. the reluctant parent gives in, hands the cashier a few dollars and the child smiles as he licks the smooth vanilla from its cone. licks are too slow and the ice-cream melts and falls to the ground- splat like you and me.
music turned up louder, playing through headphones. you jog, you dance in the kitchen, and they become essential to hear all your favorites songs. you wake up and place them in your ears only the next day and find the left ear is static and the right is silent. broken wires. bad connection. like you and me.
a brown belt strong and secure, takes the weight of oversized guts and cinching small waits with large behinds. dependable, you wear it everyday. a statement of who you are. too much pull, leads to broken belt holes; the metal prong pulling through, destroying material. like you and me.
long blonde hair. curled and styled to perfection, blown in the wind and still gorgeous. cancerous cells invade and all the effort to fix it makes the hair fall to the floor in unorganized heaps. leaving your skull even when you beg it not to. like you and me.