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Cell Mates
I cannot fear the night; I’m in love with the stars,
And the way we pretended that they were ours.
Shining teardrops that hang by a thread,
Shame to think they all are dead.
It shouldn’t matter anymore, but it haunts me every day:
How distraught we were when they were taken away.
Now our sky is painted black with a shade called ‘Outer Space’,
Yet its cracked and peeling all over the place.
Stains and scratches mark every wall,
There isn’t an ounce of light at all.
Blood stained carpets in a room without a view,
Us young ones with high hopes, now what could we do?
Chained hands, trembling, bound by something cold.
Soothing words to each other is all we’ve been told.
We were the young ones; we were the liars,
Fooling ourselves with goals and desires.
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The stars represent the freedom that feels like its been taken away as we've got older- the weight of reality weighing down on us- but the stars we see are dead.. False hope?