And I didn't like it. I didn't like the way the stars stared at me. I bet they laugh at me, a feeble speck of hopelessness. The stars know I envy their twinkle; their omnipotent beam. The stars laugh at me, though I can't help but extend my gander with gritted teeth, and culpable eyes. The stars shine so bright. Bitter, blinding, bright.
I hope you write, and share that writing. This is beautiful, and this is coming from someone who has been obsessed with reading and writing for 29 years or so.