The Revision Of Deserving More
Not My Sun
Envision yourself as the moon.
The only time people are aware of your existence is during their darkest hour.
You radiate the purest white light the entire day, and the entire night, just so that you can be masked by someone who burns just a little bit brighter.
Someone who is engulfed in their own flames.
Someone who blazes their own path with the assistance of no one.
Someone who ignites anything that even dares to come close.
Someone who is consumed by the fact that everyone revolves around them.
So, you stay hidden in their presence, tepidly waxing and waning, hoping that your inconsistency might bring at least the slightest amount of attention to your subdued manner.
People only visit you to leave their footprints in your stationary surface-level memory, and shadowed indentions.
The only time they've ever tried to unearth the secluded soul within you is to expose the artifacts within you that are beneficial for them.
So don't stare at the stars as pinpricks in the sky's facade.
Don't stare at the sky as a clock, telling you the difference between night and day.
Don't stare at the clouds as barriers of the sun.
And don't stare at the sun because you might go blind from it's hypnotizing trance.
And don't stare at yourself as anything less than what you are.
And don't stare at yourself as anything more than what I am.
You are not my sun.
I am the light all on my own.
