A Spiteful Poem

These tired old asteroids.

Never leaving.

Spinning, crashing, dissolving.

Darkness and cold and lights millions of miles away.

You're all together and all alone.

You aren't planets.

You aren't moons.

You aren't named or known and someday you'll be dust and no one will know you were ever there.

You smash into each other and break apart and little asteroids are created

And they join the dance.

Not planets.

Not moons.

Not satellites at all.

Aimless, careless, reckless.

Asteroids, you tired old asteroids.