The stars are dying
Frizzling out
They are stamped by the foot
Of mediocre
...
Star Death
The stars are dying
Frizzling out
They are stamped by the foot
Of mediocre
They are the minority
Who look at the future with shame
The silent truth in the midst of noisy lies
'please, ' they weep
Kill me but don't quench my glow
Let my blood spill but save my works
My art
My babbling and gibbering, shrouded
in the truth
that you never relish