When eyes are sprinkled across the sky

Do we ask where they were pulled from?

Are they from the brave?

The walls that fight, who

protect and stand for our rights?

Are they from broken hearts,

Just simply plucked from faces,

with no questions or answers from

a higher being.

But the higher stars, the smaller stars.

Where were they pulled from?

Are they pulled from hands stained, blushed

from fear or poison?

Are they yanked from clouds they once laid

or an evil, monstrous mess...

Is it they who were not pulled but

broken to pieces, only

pulled together but kind hands,

by heros who Elmered the parts together?

Are the eyes just stars, still brightly

shining, because that’s all they dreamed to do?

And we wish the night was of

Black cotton cushions, that laid the stars to sleep.

When eyes are sprinkled across the sky,

Do we still ask where they were pulled from?