the salamanders sing their ancient song.
While some stars burst and others simply shut,
I wonder if I've been here for too long.
All covered, now, in dust and ambergris,
I listen for the screeching butterflies
but only hear the shouting of the bees
and see the hedgehogs making their goodbyes.
The wailing worms are mourning spade-slain friends,
the spiders bark and growl at passing cars,
and so, tonight, my sanity depends
on trying not to burst, like all those stars.
And, like a song forever on repeat,
I reassess my errors and defeats.