Smallest Star


I wish I was the smallest star.

Farther from the ground of scars.

Alone I would have floated in the space.

Probably pondered over our dying race.

Maybe I would have dreamt to be here.

Sipping the booze on the bar held so dear.

Feeling tipsy as the life would have struck me.

Or dancing and buzzing as of a bee.

But nothing seems to be fair as far.

I would rather have been happy, the smallest star.

© An Empty Glass, 2014

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