I Seek the Stars

hopelessness inside of
sunken voices screaming
dreamers die cold
against the stars
they seek.

and I am
no exception to
the golden rule
turned silver before
flashing bronze.

light cannot escape
the truth caused and
stimulated by mundane
emotions everyday….

he hates her
and she hates him
because the copier
has never worked.

and we are red
and we are blue like
rising lava from
the sky.

© Ben Ditmars 2014

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