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I Don't Want The Stars Anymore

  • Poetry
  • Jan 10, 2013
  • 1 min read

I don’t want the stars anymore,

Scratch them out of the night sky, like faults and freckles on the darkest skin,

Throw them in the nearest recycling bin.

Crumple the moon, like a letter that is wrong,

Listen to the silence between the notes of a song.

Squash all the flowers on the roads and in your fists,

Leave them smeared across the world like

The body parts of a fatal car accident.

Squash them all: the pansies, the daisies, the roses, the lilies.

They are not needed now the world isn’t pretty.

You don’t need the words anymore,

For there is no one worth giving them to.

Cross them out on paper and in the air,

But stab the place where lies the word ‘unfair’.

For there is no point in the word point,

And no point in the word: word,

And there is no point in anything anymore,

When you’ll never be in this world.

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