by KJ Hannah Greenberg
Twinkle stinking little star,
You evil nighttime fiend,
Ill-results are all you want
From our domestic scene.
We won’t yield to your beacon
Bend toward your brackish throne,
Give in to you sinful whim,
Yielding hearth and home.
Cosmos-style complexities
Might bury us in dirt,
Yet your malevolence ways
Won’t mark our greatest hurt.
Beyond your ceiling flicked with light
Dwell noble hearts and souls.
Your slight criminal intent,
In contrast, ain’t that bold.
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