we're not like them.
we don't have marble engraved bones. we don't balance a pyramid on our heads. we don't drown among the shores of brutality. we don't have supernovas blooming from the hollow spaces within our chests. we don't have soft tongues that possess the language of art. we don't craft destruction from prehistoric arteries.
i won't compare you to solis because you are not him and my grandmother always told me that lying is a sin. i won't compare you to astral entities because you are not of the same likeness (you're more like an Almighty, maybe even better, but don't tell him that i said that). i won't compare you to valley greens or sea blues because you're earth's sepia. i won't compare you to an opaque bijou because you're a translucent mosaic.
maybe this is it. i have found the piece.
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listen to hand in glove by the smiths because that song is for this poem
