If I could capture the light of the stars in the palm of my hand

I would crush it to dust

for the simple fact that they are already gone

and anything that professes false hope when

it itself has failed isn’t worth wishing to.

I have stopped saying my prayers at night.

Before I knew it the once familiar words were heavy in my throat

and eventually absent from my mind

and I began spending my days

counting the ways that I was useless.

It is so hard knowing you will let yourself down before you even lift a finger

and that you don’t even have the drive to stop it.

We are trapped between giving up and leaping into action;

so overwhelmed by the gravity of things that we couldn’t possibly know where to begin—

and I am a star gazer again.

Looking at false hope.

Counting the endless ways it attempts to puncture the darkness entirely but fails.

It’s hard to see the stars when you’re surrounded by city lights anyhow.


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