I wish on broken stars...
'cause those bright ones give off too much light,
too much light can be blinding and if i remember correctly
becoming blind was never on my bucket list so,
I settle for the dim ones instead.
The drooping stars
with chipped off points and fading paint,
maintenance can't seem to help 'em 'cause
every failed renovation turns into a successful dilapidation,
they are too old to fix but strong enough to hold wishes
I send them prayers and messages through clenched palms,
whispers through pillowcases,
asking for answers in crouched positions.
I know they're listening with what's left of their senses
'cause those bright stars spend too much time focusing on shining,
no one ever gains eternal glory from being shot out of cannons,
shooting stars are rare and always temporary.
Don't place your hopes in supernovas 'cause those always explode in the end.
Those stars that mock dimly lit streetlights
will always be stuck up until the electricity cuts off, so
why not settle for those crumpled ones?
The ones who understand that when it's time to listen
that means shut your mouth and be quiet,
that not everything is about you,
but about all of us
that we are a collective
whether we like it or not.
So be nice to those shy wallflowers
next time you see them picking petals apart for attention.
Make time to understand her culture
before throwing it to the wind.
Remind yourself that love is love,
regardless of skin color or gender
help your neighbors and don’t trip the freshmen
just ‘cause the stars can’t get along, doesn’t mean we can’t.
Celestial bodies always did have a hard time
communicating with one another.
Looking up at them doesn’t mean you have to look up to them.
So rip their examples to pieces
write your dreams down on every scrap of cloud hanging from the heavens,
the sun will grab them for you on the way down, I promise
just don’t jinx it,
or the whole pile’s gonna come plummeting
and we’ll have to start all over again..
remember, we’re all apart of that same universal patch
every thread is intertwined, sturdy like anchor ropes
those scissors are gonna bend five ways on impact,
so don’t chance it.
It takes more then one person to create changes.
You can’t be flyin’ solo ‘cause no matter what
someone out there is always gonna have an extra pair of wings for you,
just stop trying to be like those stupid stars…
it’s not worth it.
They waste too many years chasing perfection
only to find that perfect simply doesn’t exist.
Those faded stars have learned they’re lessons
willingly submitting to the advances of acceptance
they acknowledge our presence…
and with diligent ears pressed against soft spoken lips,
they spend their days listening.
To every word,
exiting billboard sized mouths
we want to be heard with every bone in our being
we want them to hear us ‘cause no one else can.
And that’s just the thing isn’t it?
No one else WILL.