Where Poems Come to Die

i think i'm lost.

 They told me to look to the stars,
To ask them for help.
They said the stars would guide me,
Guard me,
Help me to building a better life.
The stars were supposed to be God's lights,
Watching over the people.
Follow the stars,
They said.
Shoot for the stars.
But the only stars I knew wore varsity jackets,
And they lived in sports,
Not skies.
They said to look to tide pools,
To understand the wonders of interconnectedness,
To look at the reflection of the stars in the blue waters,
And appreciate the world.
But the only blue I saw lived in bruises,
Not beaches,
Or in the eyes of pretty boys,
Who turned ugly in the cold light of day.
When they said to aim for the moon,
I'd look up and see only fog and city lights,
Or the bright glass of skyscrapers.
No moon,
Only people and plastic,
Or some who are both. 
I search for the sun,
But find only harsh white light,                                                                                                                                  Or speckled ceiling above my head.
I strive for its warmth,
For the comfort of its consistency,
But always fall short,
On my knees at the feet of the world.
The only warmth I know is that of fire,
Scorching hot and dangerous,
Deadly.
They say warmth is good,
But warn that fire is bad,
Say to set goals,
When the only goal I know lives at the end of a football pitch.
They say equality is a way of life,
And yet no matter how far I look it's never there.
Look from stars to tide pools,
Not bruises and bodies.
See heaven on earth,
Don't see the hell.
Don't see the misery.
Ignorance is bliss.
But tell me,
When I listen to their words,
When I look for their signs,
Aim for their targets,
Remain ignorant to the bad.
Where is the bliss now?
Because it's definitely not here.

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