Shooting Star

My father said I am like a shooting star. I come quickly from afar. And with a flash of fire and a swish of sounds. I just as quickly leave. 

Colliding into people
I crash into my dreams
How much damage do I cause
Speeding through the seas?

My father says I am a shooting star
And he wishes only that Id stay
Just as quickly as I'm here I've soon gone so far away.

Am I selfish in my sadness?
If I'm writing poems only for me?
I wish I wrote for others more
But I am a lonely star

Maybe my words are worthless.
I'm not sure I even mind.
Afternoon I am the entropy of light a burning star.

In my sadness and my apathy
I am forced to chase the skies
Hoping that the movement would keep my aligned more with the sun.
I don't always know what I'm chasing

My head is mixed with chemicals
Some days I cry for hours to heal the energy inside
I have tried to stay still
Or to walk miles just so the loneliness would leave.

Maybe my poems are evidence of insanity and anxiety.
Or maybe they're just broken parts in me that I try to understand.

Perhaps no one can give me the love I need. Not even me. My best friend told me love is a steady stream. Yet for me I burn so fiercely that the only love I desire is that which in excess would kill me.
Fatal all consuming.
Love isn't meant to burn.

God too is so far away
I pray too many nights that he d carry me away.
Pensive flame alight
I burn all through the night.
I wish I had more poems for others.

I write so much of loneliness
That I hate my own absorption
But even I can't provide the love that I need.
I cry myself to sleep.
Can you fault me for my verbosity?
I'm still fighting praying breathing

Shooting stars are only lovely for the flicker that they leave
But if you look to closely
Though you would never seen
The trail of blood and burning

You see me for a moment
Its hard on me and you of course that I know is true.

But instable balls of fire
Aren't too safe too love or to hold dear.

I can't love you right
Because I can't love me right
And the unloved flame I leave behind is only sweet in hind sight

These words will collide and crash with me. The extant remnants of luminary catastrophes.

There are times I feel god
And other times so far away
The polar vortexes of emotion
I don't wish to subject you to that

Maybe my writing will bring me solace
Somewhere in my songs I find sleep
They are public, nameless ego centric and crying out

Because the love within me is bleeding and burning out.
You can love me from afar just like shooting star.
Beautiful and broken
God painting my eyes in blue and my lips sing mostly minor keys
Does my sadness make me unique?
Lovely in its brokenness
Or hideous in hindsight?
Because in my own brokenness
Perhaps I also destroy me

Beautiful destructor!
Painfully beautiful you are!
Lovely loner
Friend of fire
Beautiful in brokenness
But whose center is unstable.

I forgiven for my vanity?
With the wretched wonderful words I write?

Can my lingering grief be pardoned?
From the sin of the pronoun I?
Do I overlook my sadness?
Take pride in it while I cry?
Who am I without my water?
I love oceans clouds and rain and Moonlight.
Sometimes I think I've even come to find pride within vain pain.

I separate myself from you
I don't want to flood you with this rain
But in my separation
I grow into a star that is quite strange.

Published by Silent Singer

The Silent Singer

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