a poem i wrote a thousand yrs ago:
staring outside my window to see, what other worlds are out there for me for in the one that i live, the sun is growing dim, the cold, clinging to my skin the sky has turned to dull and dread, to continue living in this world is worse than being dead the inhabitants around me are causing me to lose my mind, my thoughts are stifled, and my feelings are confined what other worlds await me out there in the dark, for the one that i dwell in is falling apart stars that twinkle millions of miles away, i think of them as a possible home someday for in the void they call space, they can't hear you cry, you are alone to question and to wonder why why have you been subjected to all of this pain, as you plan out your only escape send me away to that darkened space, set me free from this awful place let me be and leave me alone, for now the skies above are where i shall call home.
