"The stars are pretty."
Just like her, —
but she doesn't know that.
The stars twinkle, like the glimmer of her eye.
They sparkle like the poetic words she sings.
She told me all of her dreams.
Told me she wanted to go stargazing.
She didn't know, that I was already stargazing.
How could I tell her?
Tell her, that she was far more prettier -
than the stars that glimmered and brightened the blackened skies.
