The stars

A Poem by Lana

Gently, softly, particularly angry
No altitude, no frenzy
A carpet full of stickers that says "Thee! Thou shalt see the stars!"
Oh, really? I could get so high up in the sky?
Oh, to finally feel a sensory load of crashing blobs of stars
That say hello, no more cylinder of doves, only beverage of stars, crashing, pouring into my sweet song
I reminisce about the times I felt so alone, it wasn't so sweet then, but I remember when
I'd crash and burn in bed, and it made me feel no pain, no damn shame
Just a fire in the rain, pushing to ignore the pain into a driver's license
Suddenly, I get in the car, finally, I see the stars
The stars! The stars!
They bend as I sing
They turn into crystallized sugar as I speak
And when I've barely existed
I was only just a star!
Then it was all I needed to finally exist
The irony to fit the narrative of climbing a pit of fissures in the galaxy and dimensions of my needs, so I can see myself, thus, the stars!
The stars!
Shall I cover myself in crystals and appear like a ghost in the mountains of love, right in front of the sun
And buy a mirror, and shine so brightly, the sun and the moon quiver
What then? Would I finally see the reflection of the stars from above?