You had me believing
that I was born a planet,
But I was not merely made to rotate.
To worship your temporary idols
as if I were born a follower.
How can you control me
and make me small?
When my love reaches farther
When my light can be
seen from lights years away.
When my death will become
its own galaxies
it's own planets
and moons
and creatures.
No.
You're charming gravity does not
pull my attention to you.
No.
Your light doesn't blind me
enough to warm my insides.
No.
You are not going to make me
small enough to tilt my axis.
For your milky way is not my way
I don't need your opinion
when you're standing on
the other side of the moon.
YOU ARE READING
Ode to the broken crystal.
Poesía"if heaven has books, may this one go to you." - Your Daughter.
