When a star falls from the sky
It makes a black hole in the chest of it,
The world applauses the shimmering trail of lights
It leaves behind.

Overlooking the fact
It's nothing but a dying piece
Of mess and chaos.

A Star, once it was.
An epitome of beauty and light.
Leaves behind nothing
But ashes and fright.

What it might be going through?
Suffocation?
Dejection?
Pain and plight?

Or just satisfaction and peace?
Some kind of fulfillment,
Over whatever it had achieved
In those years of life.