17 May 2012
It's funny how as we unfold
From a tiny little force,
We develop our own design,
Our own thoughts, our own voice.
We speed through life, a cutthroat game,
To try and be the best,
As we shoot into space
Bearing down, murdering the rest.
We all may be brilliant stars
Vying with the sun
But in our desperate bid to shine
We forget where we came from.
Murderous Stars • Opuss № I