disaSTAR

If the stars come together as one,
they’d make a gorgeous display.
If the little moons left the Moon
to spread across the sky,
they’d create something beautiful too.
A twinkling, giant disaSTAR,
and its little MOONsters.

It won’t last for long;
stars aren’t built to not crave for attention.
At least one would pop
out of the group often and complain,
“I’m not being noticed enough!”,
and in no time, there’d be no group.
The moons are better together as one Moon;
things are good as they are.

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Choose One, Choose Me

I so desperately wanted to be a star,
and now that you have made me one,
how do I tell you that I hate it when
I struggle for your attention?

I want to be the star,
the only star, on this sky,
and if that wish is impossible to grant,
make me the guiding star.
I want to have you to myself, Moon.
I really hate the way you ‘her’;
I want you to turn things ‘her-round’.

Be My Star

There is no star on my sky,
there is no moonlight.
Will you be a star on my sky,
will you give my moon light?

There is no star on my sky,
there is no moon, any night;
there is no me, every night.
Will you be a star on my sky,
will you love the Moon, Light?

Sick and Tired

I’m sick and tired
of being sick and tired,
so tired of being sick,
so sick of being tired.

I’m so tired of being love-sick,
and just as intensely,
so sick of the way you make me tired.

You make me uncomfortable when
you place a third on our love seat,
when you make me struggle for your attention
like the weakest star among the
lot who love and want to be with the moon,
when I lie with you and there’s no heat.

I am sick and tired of you, of this us, of the way you ride me like a horse.