𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲

Sun

Overlooked, overworked, underpaid, with no gratitude. You yearn her presence but gripe about mine. "It's too hot, too bright." I'm never 'just right.' Without me, you couldn't survive, couldn't thrive in this life you call yours.

See how well she treats you. Her glow dissipates with my darkness. Envy runs through me. You don't deserve to see.

Nothing runs without me.