S t a r s

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It was the stars,

that shone the brightest.

When the moon was gone,

and the night was at its darkest.


Even behind the clouds,

she could feel their bright glow.

Calling her name,

watching her grow.


It was the stars that the flowers,

turned their petals up toward.

That the trees grew high into the night,

and the wolf howled at the glittering sight.


Yet it was the stars,

that watched the earth grow old. 

Withering under their light,

turning brown and turning cold.


And they cried in sorrow,

as life turned dark.

And they fell from the sky,

as the end began to spark.


Across the sky they flew,

and all eyes turned up in awe.

To watch the meteor shower,

that mourned the death of the world they saw.

Words to My Demons | Poetry ✔️Where stories live. Discover now