Built on the Stars

Despite our pleas and pathetic memorials to souls who couldn’t care less,

Darling, the dead are meant to stay dead, And they only live on in the stories we replay in our head, 

Trapped on repeat in the one-sided memories we relive.

Yet in your glory and arrogance, you bring to life the darkest of souls,

Ready to walk among creatures that harbor no semblance to men.

You walk a God among men, poised with elitist elegance,

Head too far in the clouds to realize the ground you stand and

Ready to cast aside those deemed unworthy, yet for all your immortality,

You fall shy of the beauty of a memory. A soul trapped on the earth meant for man.

So I wait for you to come off your high, holding your head as it crashes down.

No, we did not start out like the worshiped and superior,

Rather, we came into being through shy smiles and longing glances.

Nights spend whispering humbled wishes and lost dreams,

And we would wonder what the stars were desperate to tell us.

The sun rose once again, reality quick to swallow what was left of our innocence.

For all the power of that star, she was no match for you.

It is said kings and queens find love together when their empire is set to fail,

A tragedy with the build up of star-crossed lovers,

And I like to think we could have been great enough to be carve into stone,

A King and Queen who found each other and set the balance of power once again.

But for all the epics and songs, I could not find a tale that would match ours,

For who is a king to a queen who gave her heart to a peasant long ago?

And what is a queen to a man who knows not the cost his tyranny?

Kings come and kings go, but you figure a God has a lifetime to hold power,

So you build yourself a kingdom fit for the ancient Gods and rock the world,

Forgetting nights under the stars, and the children who wished upon them

And I can’t grieve who you used to be any longer.

(Because the dead stay buried in the swallow graves we build,

Unable to rise for weeping sinners like us,

So we are left praying to the corpse of what once was and will never be again.)

Though I am painful attune to the concept of a prayer heard, a prayer lost,

I have never found the answers I needed.

So while you tumble back and forth with so little faith,

I drop to my knees and worship you the only way my heart knows how.

Hoping to find grace with the king. Hoping my offering to the God will suffice.

For what does a Queen have left to give, when her kingdom has fallen to dust?

Her heart painted a red too dark to be considered holy,

So who is the king to the Queen who has lost everything?

What is the title of Queen to a man who worships false Goddess’?

He; who has served more Queens then he knows, all for a kingdom built in the stars?


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