Brightest Star
Just like the number, twenty nine, I was in my prime
A rowdy reprobate at large whose life had no design
Then one day, the blue sky fell and landed on my heart
A star was born and spared my life picked up the broken parts
She tied me to her finger where she wore me like a ring
Then took control and played me like a puppet on a string
I entertained and danced for her she grew and laughed out loud
And every time she called me dad I danced from cloud to cloud
My darkest day my star took off, bright shooting star to roam
She kept my heart but left some dreams for me to call my own
Sometimes sad melancholy visits me which irritates my scar
I simply walk out on my porch and dream among the stars.
An original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
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