Hallucinatory poetry, "Star Hatchery."

There's a former waitress who's cooked up some plans.
I'm a scientist and a lover. 

And if this were science fiction,
There's a star waiting to be born in the hatchery.
So I go after it.

I'm possibly fed up with my Queen since I go away.

With a call to the higher authorities she's sure.

But after reevaluation I've decided I'm too feeble.
I don't become the Star.
There is no justice when there's no judge to be seen,
But any attempt at success will go unrestrained, unabated.

I'm no match for the Star's strength once it's hatched,
But time will be stolen from it when it's been fully and fairly treated,
Or so she says.
On a ship I believe I can reach the Star before it's too late,
Because there will be star harvesting,
And like while you may or may not believe aborting a fetus is right or wrong,
It is my choice, in the end, because I'm paving the way for humanity.

We're arriving and we wonder how we may be warmed by the Star,
Whenever its weather changed we kept on wanting to be a star.
Though our hearts are too large to be contained and used,
They're beginning to be made of metal.
The Star's gravitational attraction catches our eyes.
We think as we come closer and judge it,
That she ran away and never came back again.

If this were science fiction,
There's a star waiting to be born in the hatchery.