All of these Stars

we think the stars play master
manage fates and talk us somber;
like a puppet psychologist
except this one doesn’t know us.

we’d rather strain our necks
than look ’round breaking backs;
gazing at the foreign –
were we disappointments?

when the stars roll down cheeks.
when the stars shine on the meek.
i want you to know, i want you to see –

you were my star, master of me. 

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