At night
I dance and sing
In the stars.
We talk about the thoughts
That burden my mind
And the feelings I can't explain.
The stars help me.
They tell me what's wrong with me.
It's this new word,
So foreign, so deathly.
I'ts called depression.
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Second Thoughts, Third Thoughts
PoetryHighest - #36 in Poetry "Not only did I love her, but I could tell the universe loved her, too. More than others. She was different. After all, I would be a fool not to notice the way the sunshine played with her hair." -Christ...
