Hood hot with the stories we told ourseves to feel better.
Self destructive tendencies, too many ways we kill each other.
It gets grimy before you can heal. 
Layers shedding, like a healing blister feels.

Revealing I’m lesser than I put forth to the public eye.
Dark as the night sky.
But Painted with the tears we cry.

The stars are our hope holders. 
Call out for hope when I’m feeling lower.
Low as dropped to my knees. Hands raised screaming out. 
Those that came before us guide us like supernovas.