There is something out there for everyone to never have;
Galaxies we will not visit,
And cosmos we will never grab
We collect dust and burn minutes,
Breaking nails on the chalkboard of her apathy
To be forgotten like a footprint on the moon
We wait to fall and feel her gravity,
And stain the aloof Earth maroon
She inflicts careless wounds with tired fingers;
Still our gaze fixed upon her skies from our open casket,
Keeping track of hands that choke and tick
To the tune of the creator and assassin;
She whispers “there is nothing more”
In hopes we’ll find that it’s worth living for