Consolation Prize

You woke from a dream of a blank page
Unwritten story of six years sleeping
Clear-headed or empty-headed
It was a secret that would bear keeping
Looking for a star to wish upon
Ready to be used until you're gone
Accept a consolation prize, in this you're not alone
Kept in fear of what's inside you
But outside you nothing is certain
Certainty's a dream anyway, in which you cannot move
In which your hands are bound
While you are looking for a star to wish upon
Ready to be used until you're gone
Accept a consolation prize
In this you're not alone
Walking condescension, drowning in intentions
Waiting for someone to eye what you have proffered
There's nothing offered in your gesture
Just the slightest supplication for a consolation prize