Falling Stars

Why do we wish on falling stars?

Placing all our soccer trophies

And unsent text messages

And serotonin levels

On one little star

That isn’t having a very easy time itself

I mean, it’s not even a star

It’s just a rock

Talk about false expectations

Did anyone ever stop and think

That it probably hurts

To be propelled against an atmosphere

At 50,000 miles per hour?

Imagine your face

Pressed against the asphalt

As you’re pulled behind a drag racer

Except you’re the drag

And while you’re being towed along

Everyone’s shouting at you

“I want an Xbox!”

“I wish he’d just ask me!”

“Please let me pass orgo!”

And expecting you to do something about it

Like you’re freakin’ Santa

Did anyone ever consider

That the rock

Is too busy trying to survive

And not burn up into little pieces

To worry about all of our problems?

I mean

Doesn’t anyone realize

That the rock

Is just trying its best?