Listen to poem:
Dying stars
The night volume is turned up high; it's the prisoner of despair
Self-conscious this paralyzing world that is running out of air
A dire need of change for the fearful stars are made so aware
The cries their loved ones make when one falls and dies are echos of the mind, I swear
It reverberates through the heavens as countless humans choose to aimlessly, stare
At their last night; now just a silhouette of time when they showed us how to care
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