Lost

She wanted to be free of worldly things—

What she felt were puppet strings.

She wished upon each shooting star,

Taking each one for a ride.

They never took her very far,

Each fall killing her deep inside.

She gave up wishing, hoping for more.

“I’ll never try again!” she swore.

She resigned herself to life in strings,

Conceding defeat and covering her scars.

She lived and laughed with hated things,

Her eyes cast to the ground, avoiding the stars.

Then one evening a flash forced her eyes to the sky

And she saw a star that made her ache to try.

But she sat and she pondered,

Searching for the star’s inevitable fatal flaw.

She looked so long that her chance was squandered—

Fear had kept her too long and her star did withdraw.