And now I see.
It wasn\'t written in the stars;
It wasn\'t really written at all.
The jarring pain of treachery,
Even harsher of withdrawal.
The bereavement of longing.
The gist of wake.
The blanched sips of dejection,
And the gruesome worrying.
When I see the stars now,
Nothing\'s written in it still.
I see you star but you\'re not my spectacle, anymore.