I Write Poetry

My heart an undead monster,
Clawing from the hell in which it lies,
Begging for an answer to the question,
Where does a star go when it dies,

What happens to its magic,
When its light does tarnish and fade,
What happens to the love it held,
And all its promises made,

What happens to its wishes,
What becomes of its dreams,
Lost within the darkness of night,
Remembered only by moonlight beams,

Though this star is dead,
I shall not easily be forgotten,
Memories living long within my chest,
In the hell which I've begotten.