Space is infinite,
and apparently I'm made out of stars.
And matter never ceases to be,
it just get's turned into something new.
So, somehow I'm infinite.
An unending being made of
Star dust and galaxies,
I am eternal and unstoppable.
And yet,
I am mortal, something death may touch.
Made with the same amount of sin laced
through my veins as star dust.
I've got the finger prints of a God
scattered across my body,
and the scars of the Devil.
Death may snatch me up,
but I will not be gone.
I am eternal,
just as the star dust
that runs through my veins.
YOU ARE READING
Color Me Gray
PoetryIt's about my life in a way. A lot of my poetry stems from things I go though. And Unfortunately I only update when something makes me generally upset or overjoyed. I'm happy with whatever feed back.
