Tue, 02/20/2018 - 23:11 -- KJSelf

Not of this world

From her heart she roars through space

She wept oceans from her blues

Her pied piper was a starman

Who scribed her love and sorrow songs

before she was but a twinkling in her father's eye.



She bares her teeth in rage

Her passion summons storms



Her flesh is vast and covered with constellations

Some always there and some fresh, old, and red

When astronomers or common men admire her

Simple pearls and every-day appearance

She's aware of their little understandings

of her supernovas, burning conglomerations,

Her dying stars crying before their combustions.



She's dreamt of a Starman to compose

Her love and sorrow songs



As one can explore where no man has gone before

They will never know her every Pandora, Venus or Mars.

They will grow cold though they started

When she was but twilight, knights saved her

Traced her stars and drew her dreams

But they were but mirages in the night,

untouchable extraterrestrials, meaningless hopes.



She draws her face behind clouds, or a storm of refuge

she sends out the sun

She calls for a nicer time of day

To take her place.



She's thumbed through pages of the stories

The universe has had to offer her

No night can save her at this point.


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