The fault in my stars

In the silence of the extremely cold night,
In lonesome cave where pulse slowly beeps
Like the tick of the ancient clock
In flight of the bussing forlorn bee
I searched, oh! I search
For love and a shoulder for my sticky tears
A shoulder upon which I might share my tale
My tale of innocence and refreshing drought

Maybe a little new world will accommodate me
A world where my truth would be lesser lie
A world where I would not barely be loved widely
To be forgotten promptly
A world where if only for a moment I am drowned
In the depth of adorable reciprocity, I would be proudly wowed
A world where I could be me- weird
Where I might find a star to cuddle my weeping sky
Where I could write, be bright and probably be right
I searched, oh! I search
With my eyes filled with informed sorrow
Tears, I bought when I feel for the air
I searched, oh! I search
Yet, my sorrow crowds me
Chokes me
Even in the presence of this multitude
I searched, with my sorrow crowding me.


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