Surrounded by people,
Dripping with spite,
With each day growing more feeble,
And telling ourselves “It’ll be all right.”

They spoke with their bitter tongue
“You’ll find yourself alone,”
It’s the fear that they weren’t wrong,
“Only to be remembered when you’re stone.”

There’s a block,
A disability in my hearing
That forces me not to listen,
And to bear in mind a past lesson.

Over hearing platitudes and trite,
No matter the distance and how far
We venture, there is no real respite
From the noises of those thus far.

There’s a cough,
A catch in my throat
That tells me to keep to silence,
And resign myself to solitude.

So I stay in my tender night,
Blessed by the cancer of the stars.
Speckles and flecks of light
That died alone and aren’t what they are.
Just like the stars which light the night
All people, the distance between too far.
And just like the long dead stars at night,
Many people are not what they seem they are.

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