Waiting in the wings

I wish the mentally unwell would wear stars

My family is hard to find these days

We could form an army like the nightsky

And be hounded as a pack

My spine has started to grow roots

And I actually don’t mind being alive

With samplings as dried up as ours

We need all the help we can get

The sky is dark and full of us

Black matter squishing and pulling

I wish my enemies would wear hearts

So I can rip them apart and make them a star.

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