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Sep 2019
Maybe we didn’t have to fall asleep
to be blind to what we see.
We used to stay up late,
wishing upon the stars.
Hoping for someone to hear us.
I wanted to be something greater,
change something for the better.

But any astronomer can tell you
that those stars aren’t real anymore.
They’ve died long ago.
They’ve left me staring at the ceiling in the dark,
awaiting something that will never embark.
Most of the stars that we can see are dead. The last stanza is about insomnia and also seeing the night sky as it actually is.
Casey
Written by
Casey  21/Trans Male/Wisconsin
(21/Trans Male/Wisconsin)   
386
 
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