There are some nights where you find yourself
Gazing up into the bottomless void
With longing clawing its way from your throat
And hot tears singeing the backs of your eyes.
Your skin prickles from the pull off the cosmos
As every breath mocks two grounded lungs.
Then there are most nights,
When you keep your head down turned
With starlight replaced by artificial halos.
You violently smile to no one in particular,
And pretend to be ignorant,
Of your own immeasurable ignorance.