Lachrymose Star

At the start of the setting dusk our feelings begin to run amok

As I stop and stare at the stars in front of me

I begin to temper the shine of my identity

roaming my trail, my own to fall and frolic

Practice makes perfect, the mantra I follow

unbeknownst to another who begins to bellow

One does not compare to one who shines so bright this ambition is nothing more than a common blight

Temper your expectations, and you’ll succeed

Shine amongst the rest, after all you don’t compare to the best

Those words welling up inside as my dream is lost to its suicide

I reminisce on what could’ve been, if I hadn’t listened to those voices the

When I was asked what I felt on evenings past all I could say was

“ I was invalidated. It was demeaning.”