The stars do not just whisper,
they cry and yell and beg.
"Someone,
someone,
we are ill,
from this horror show we cannot unsee."
The land was filled with gas,
the stars,
too high to cleanse.
The stars are begging,
"Someone,
someone,
put this horror to an end."

Though on the other side.
The one that plugs their ears,
clipped noses,
zipped mouths,
and the society alive,
we say nothing to the stars,
instead we simply watch them cry.

I know we let you drop the shine,
and dazzles of tears
to our revolt and vandalized land.
I'm sorry we cannot let go,
and give you all demand,
but society has this image,
and it may not go away.

I'm sorry crying, yelling stars,
but no.
Not today.