Roads stretch for miles,
The city lights seem lonely
and 27 like an ominous number

I search my head for answers,
Though thoughts about age and time
seem pointless

I wonder what the stars think of their mortality,
Does it also seem like a short time?
Is someone also stealing their time?
Does it feel like a rush?
Do they also feel small?
Can their gigantic heat generate as much joy as it illudes us to?

There is no point in wondering
Yet wondering puts my mind to ease...

....I wonder why