The Stars that Aren't Ours

The stars are our fatal wounds,
And we are dogs so we lick them,
Picking up the scraps of our potential,
Mourning the loss of our identities,
Praying we reach death before madness,
As we are desperate for an escape.

Tracing our fingerprints into the sand,
We are so desperate for someone to remember us.
We have become what they have scorned for existing,
And it is agonizing to not be any different.

But it was them that pushed us to the shadows,
Mocked us and set fire to our salvation,
Making it impossible for us to show the truth,
That we are power.

It is them,
They have trapped us,
And oh how excruciating it is,
To realize they know what they are doing.

And the others,
They won't listen now,
No, not when we’ve been outcasted from society,
Deemed monsters and untouchables,
Oh, it is tormenting to ask,
How will this world ever change?

I suppose it will just leave us licking at the stars,
As we were in the beginning,
Fooled to think that we could ever do more.