Dying Star



Falling from the ocean,

Sinking down the sky.

In these scarring wastes,

From the dusts of rusty metal,




A glass is molded out,

To shine like a beacon.

For others to know about.

For the long dead to feel

What is the short life about.




For the dreams that I see,

Everyday all my life.

Are the dreams about things,

The things that are not about.




The trees dont breath any longer,

The waves are not alive.

Dead are the singing birds,

Dead are the seeing stars.




The sunshine is no longer gentle,

The father in it is gone.

Kept you from the darkness,

That watched you from afar.




Now that I am a monster,

I see how good is love.

Engulfed in the silent dark,

I numbly see the light.

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