Stars Under a City Sky

The only stars under a city sky are the ones we paint onto the ceiling.
The only horison you can find is the one displayed on a compass.
The only lights to guide the way are the ones on the front of a car.
The only life left to live is the one we find along the way.
My heart pounds in my chest like a bass drum.
I can feel everything coming to me like a freight train.

People run past like rats scurrying to their dumpsters
Rats run past like people scurrying to their 9-5’s.
In the offices, the workers hold a mass to the business gods.
In the churches, the pastors make backroom business deals.
Tomorrow we can take aim at all that holds us back.
For now, we wait, like the calm before the storm.

The sun reaches us only as reflections off skyscraper windows.
The moon is outshined by billboards and streetlights.
The stars above can’t breach the city sky.
But they still try, despite that they know it’s already true.
And so we drive towards what looks like the sunset.
What is ahead lasts forever, as long as we never look back.

From New York across to LA.
From the interstate to the dirt backroad.
We keep moving forwards, never letting go.
Our dying dreams carry all that is good and pure.
Like the brightest stars under the city sky.
We still try, to paint ourselves onto everything we see.

By: Parker Dietrich