They said that I am not as bright as I thought I was. I am a somber fallen constellation of stars, a speck of dust within planets, a colorless rainbows, a dimmed light.

A gloomy world covered within smiles and innocent.

A warmless sun.

A garden with no flowers or bees.

How could I be? How could I be the one that I thought I was? How could I be the one I wanted? How could I be the one they wanted? How could I be the sun, not the rain, or the cold within the storm?

Am I ever going to be?

Even if I am still echoing between the stardust and no one haven’t heard a thing, or a mountain without a view, or a place that got no chimney to embrace the warmth of fire,

I will always hope that no one could feel like this. I hope they will always shine and warm and bring themselves to their brightest stars. I hope they do know they deserve all the good thing and kindness. I hope they know they deserve that.

I hope someday, in some reality, some other lifetime, I know that I deserve that too.

I am happy enough with just living because I always thought grave was always more warm than this.