Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god


I use to think he gave
Me some thought at 10:14.

My eyes fogged with
Idiotic hope, thinking I could
Be loved as well.

As an awkward child,
I hoped to grow up to
Be beautiful;
To be a gem of soft purity
Amongst rough jagged rocks.

I grew up a pebble in
Someone's shoe.
Not enough thought as I'm
Tossed aside.

It's true.
The sun cannot love the moon.


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