Note: This poem was originally posted to Patreon on an unknown date in 2023.
She sang of feeling, she dreams of death, convinced that there is nothing left.
On the ground, broken in pain, an agony towards the heavens again.
A shining star not bright not small, but abandoned, dark, and rather small.
Behind the veil of ash and tar, she still shines faintly from afar.
Oh how I wish to see the brightness from the black sun, but the heat, it burns, my flesh it consumes.
So be it, I’ll see it through.
She’ll shine again even if I fade to black.
Or I’ll put her out of her misery
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