we must look up.

i don’t want to look up

since looking up allowed it to happen.

seeing it, allowing its beaming blue,

observing the flash it made in the night sky;

it killed us before it even came.


i wonder if it could’ve stopped,

if it was punishment for the time

i didn’t lend him my pencil.

not because i didn’t have one,

but because my pencil was too good for him


yet the more i think about it

i become grateful, for now the earth

has been granted purity,

a renaissance, a chance to be

born once again.


and as I feel my skin become dust

i burn bright like fire

and we all become stars,

decorating the night sky

or more precisely, space.


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