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Milkyway

I catch the stars as they fall from the sky,

Each of them is a sparkle of 'why?'

 

I brush the space dust with a broom,

To tidy the hair of the man on the moon.

 

I catch satellites as they whirl,

As the lack of communication makes me hurl.

 

I swipe the light into the black hole,

To show the deep deep cold.

 

My hand waves the gravity away,

As all weight fades fade fades.

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Written by
lydia-pinder
20 / F
Published
May 23, 2014
Lines·Words
10·76
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