The stuff that makes me up once made up other stuff.
The stuff that makes me up will someday make up other stuff.
I want to be a star.
I want the stuff that makes me up now to someday make up a star.
When my body decomposes and goes back to the earth.
And when the earth goes back to what ever it came from.
I want the stuff that once made me up to float off into a nebula.
And then burn into a star.
***
A/N>\/
This did not come out the way I'd hoped. Sorry if it's confusing.
Oops.
Oh, well.
YOU ARE READING
the stars are ugly
Poetry((((Shit vibes)))) Enjoy my book of terrible poetry (if it can be called that)
