Aliens

There is world, vast and uncaring
Lonely and beautiful and fearsome,
meaningless and undying, compassionate
and tuneful, inharmonious and barren.
You decide to reside on mars,
just for the sake of novelty
And to take only the few humans,
who love you and have unquenching
Thirst for random snippets of mockery
and the trees that do not dwell in the
past life of thornful rose-queens yet
sounding like a song with two guitars
and a small piano played by the post-punk dudes
You decide to travel tomorrow and
rest for the night in the cozy bed
made just for lustful drama-queens
trying to dream non-alien images.

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