If Only They Were Real

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A thousand stars to reach,
with only a ladder to the moon it barely touches;
I try still to look at the
glitters in the sky,
but my night has turned dark again
—so dark,
the star has been robbed off its distant limelight.

I light a candle,
but the wind blows so strong tonight.
The little flicker of dancing light,
robbed off its joy by the invisible force,
force so strong,
yet I see not with my desperate gaze.

Then drops of tears that trickle down my facade,
I feel the warmth so real at first.
But the sky decides to cry tonight
—cry cold tears that envelop mine,
telling me I'm a phony
for trying to shed the warmth I thought I had.





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