The Universe

The world isn’t made of black and white, we are all patterns of melted crayons. The world is a place of thrown together groups and colonies. The world is not a puzzle, none of the pieces match. The world isn’t what it appears to be, it is different between closed doors.

The world is the people, you see. The broken, the whole. The beaten, the beautiful. The abused, the abusee. The world is the people and the people are all different. Stop telling the world it has to be like the other planets, the planets with all their moons and colours. The world doesn't want to be like them, the world isn’t happy with themselves.

The sun is orange and red and yellow too, yet you tell it it isn’t pretty enough. That it shines too bright, that it needs to dim its light a little. You tell the sun to grow up and act like the stars. You tell the sun to be like them, to not steal all the shine.

The Moon is not your favorite, you prefer the others. The moon cries for the hate you give in the dark, the dirty looks you shoot at them. The moon has craters and layers. You think the moon should be a simple thing to unravel, because complicated things are too hard. You say to calm your circling, you aren’t a planet.

The world, the sun, the moon. Oh, how you bully them because they are different.

Author Notes: Thank you for reading.

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