What about the stars?
It sparks. Magnificently.
Pleases our eyes.
Makes us believe in good things in this world.
Looking at them giving us a tiny tingling touch in our stomach.
We all do like things that are pretty.
It isn’t as strong as the moon,
but it still tries to shine at its best at the darkest time of the day.
Too damn far to be reached.
Not in a million years would we ever land our hands to that thing.
Stars are dreams.
They are the things you wish you are, but you are not.
And will never be.
And it’s sad how we are adoring those tiny sparkly lights when in fact,
they are huge, dying, burning stones.
Counting time to the day they die and turn into dust.
Desperately screaming for help but nobody is too near to hear.
Even if someone does, they’d end up hurt from the heat.
Stars are hopelessness.
But when they finally turn into stardusts,
things get easier.
It gets way lighter.
And people might not see any spark,
but they sincerely happy they survived.
Stars are us.
It symbolizes our life battles.