Fortunes written in the stars,
or so they say.
The path of life veers off unknown come what may.
Foretold are lavish fantasies believed to come true.
Lies beseech reality hidden and misconstrued.
Prevail is now a word that holds little.
A droplet that has become the ripple.
To whom is the pleasure owed, I wonder?
The blatant cause of this hopeless blunder.
As our ears pay mind to the crashing thunder.
Eyes displeased beginning to suffer.
I died
You cried
The stars lied

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