with a constellation in your palms
you'll mold the universe as you wish
you are untamed, an inkwell of hate
that you spill onto everything good
hands of aybss, you covered my mouth
and then you silence the child of space
darken nebulae, and drown the moon
you camouflage your hateful misdeeds
scrape the stars from the heavens above
and sweep away their cosmic beauty
**** off supernovas, galaxies
or anything that is beautiful
but when the quasar still outshines you
you can’t stop me from starting to speak.
not even a black hole can silence the child of space.