[ WP ] You are on a midnight walk alone with your thoughts .

The light are so always so bright at night. Neon signs from the ragged pawn shops, broken spotlights off dilapidated billboards, flickering blinkers from the occasional ramshackle car. They were the only things lighting shoes in the otherwise blanketed darkness. 
 
 It was a city of sights, so devoted to the medium that it did n't matter if ears bled, fingers numbed, or air reeked. As long as the eyes were able to see, look, stare, then the city would come alive. And when alive, the city would be the deadliest femme fatale, seductive to all and without exception; it was the only thing that brought her joy. All she needed was a chance, for someone to glimpse at her, for someone to become enthralled by her. 
 
 And she did. She captivated millions of stars. Because the city promised and promised: to those who followed her lights; to those eluded by the grandeur of fame; to those who wanted to be a star in a city of stars. To those who were nothing special. 
 
 For every star there's another light, waiting to attract the next mosquito. The lights play coy, shining into the heavens above. They want to be like the stars in the sky, but unlike the sky, every star on the ground has a macabre tale, one of tragic misfortune and dead dreams. 
 
 But they can never be like the sky. The stars in the sky were innocent, genuine, lovely. And the stars on the ground know that. 
 
 That's why. That's why for every star on our earth, one from the heavens is stolen. There's not enough room for two sets of stars. 
 
 Damn. I miss the stars.
