Maybe she was obsessed with the sun because she liked the way it shined.
Maybe it was the way it kept her warm.
Maybe it was the way she knew it would always be there the next morning.
But maybe it was the way she knew it could never leave her.

Maybe she liked the stars because she liked the way they shined.
Maybe it was the way they looked like millions of fireflies.
Maybe it was the way they formed pictures in the night.
But maybe it was the way she knew they couldn't leave her.

Maybe she forever gazed at the moon because she liked the way it shined.
Maybe it was the way it shared the sky with the stars.
Maybe it was the way it died every night to let the sun live.
But maybe it was the way she knew it could never leave her, not forever. Not like everybody else.