Distant is the star I used to wish upon
and further distant is the feel
of wishes coming true
in a world of silent lovers
amidst the din of noisy haters.
It’s not really that they hate;
they’re simply empty, cold,
and feelings neither good nor bad
can live in dark dank places.
And I can’t touch them, no, I can’t,
for the chill that creeps within
and tries to take control
of my essential grace.
So I leave them there as you should do
to grovel in their own petard
and wonder every day and night
why all their noisy frenzies
hurt them instead of me!