Stop and think of all the atrocities you know of.
How awful, that we see the scenes of war in our living rooms,
and remain vaguely detached.
How awful, that we see death and brutality, more publicised than ever,
but cannot bring ourselves to climb out of our minds and care about it.
Perhaps no heart is big enough to carry the sadness of the human race.
But compassion is our saving grace, and I will try, I swear I will try,
to care about every single person who crosses my path.
I wish I could still see the beauty of the night,
Instead of the emptiness of house windows and the desolation of pavements.
I wish I could find the halogen streetlights enchanting,
Instead of seeing the loneliness of their orange hearts and forlorn glow.
I wish I could wish upon the stars in the velvet darkness,
Instead of knowing with cold clarity that they are dead and billions of miles from me.
When, I wonder, did the night become sad? When did the streetlights become cold?
When did the stars lose their magic?