Redemption 21/ 9

I can craft poetries in the middle of the night,

While I stare at the star’s light,

Which is burning some light years away,

Dying every moment as I say,

This is not the best I’ve got,

Because the words are never going to be a lot,

To say what goes in the head all day,

Only if thoughts were so easy to say,

Than to rhyme them in schemes and create an ode,

Than rather keep them inside and make your heart explode.