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?