everyday, i chase this one shooting star,
i pretend that im not, but i admire from afar.
it’ll grant my wish, make my dreams come true.
against an abyss of flying rocks, this light is my truth.
i reach up to the top, my arms awkwardly outstretched,
like a baby bird straining its neck, out of the nest, i want to
fly. but alas! alas, the stars are too high.

i trip and i fall, while the stars soar away,
there, on the ground, the glow fades away.
so i wait again, for the next flock of rocks,
and until then, i am obedience – boxed.
i don’t make a move, i don’t even talk,
my muscles are sore, but i remain firmly docked.
the stars don’t say anything – because stars cant speak!
but i know theyre watching, even when i sleep.

but just when i think ive been perfectly complacent,
the stars, they avoid me, distant and vacant,
they glide through the wind, granting prayers and calls,
but when they see me, they stop – and start to fall.
crashing, rocketing, burning alive, the stars i so wanted,
begin to die.