I'm not like you:
talented and confident and
captivating in more than one way.
I'm envious, jealous, of
what you bring.
You're an artist;
you're chiseled out of stone.
I'm crafted from wood:
flimsy, easily broken, whistling
with the wind.
You're the sun,
a star,
but something the world
can't help but center
itself around.
I'm just the moon:
cold, reflective, lacking
in atmosphere.
Maybe it's your height
that keeps me in your shadow -
but, no matter what I do or say,
it all feels
comparatively hollow.
You've grabbed life
and molded it as you see fit.
Meanwhile, I'm lost and afraid
with few accomplishments.
Dear brother,
I write not to scold.
Why would I hate a story
blood told?
I merely write in hopes
that my shame
might fade away
onto the page.
YOU ARE READING
To the World...(A Collection of Poems)
PoetryZelda Aurora Gabriel has been writing poetry from the time she was 13. She is now 25. Different from others her age, poetry became an outlet and a means of understanding a world that often didn't understand her. "To the World" is a compilation and a...
