I feel like the stars and the sky Have eyes And that they look upon us and see Straight through to the core Of every tiny life Realizing that for every bit of good There is an army of bad. Maybe that's why the sky cries sometimes Fills every crack with tears until there's nothing left And maybe that's why she gets angry Furiously scrubs away the roughness Until all she can see is her reflection. Perhaps the stars are the reason Riling up the poor sky Showing her tiny crimes and tiny lies Whispered in tiny ears The stars shedding little lights On a seemingly hopeless situation. Perhaps she can't help but vent her frustration Because the stars are right sometimes. Then who comforts her, I wonder, Who gives her strength to show the sun When the hours of night are waning And the day still hasn't begun? Is it the sun, the moon, a god, the wind Or love as the case may be? Or does she comfort herself When she feels that she's in need?