To know you’re the sun, and to yet wear sunglasses.
To know you’re the moon, and to yet never wonder your beauty in the night sky.
To know you’re the flower, and yet to pick yourself up and leave to wilt in a vase.
To know you’re a bird, and to walk in a cage.
To know you’re the sky, and still attempt to touch the earth.
To know you’re death, and yet marvel at the process of birth.
To know you’re inevitable, and yet keep a plan B.
To know you’re evil, and yet pretend to be divinity.
To know you’re divine, and to yet partake in blasphemy—
is the essence of being human,
and the secret to my humanity.
Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 1:07 PM UTC
To know you’re the sun, and to yet wear sunglasses.
To know you’re the moon, and to yet never wonder your beauty in the night sky.
To know you’re the flower, and yet to pick yourself up and leave to wilt in a vase.
To know you’re a bird, and to walk in a cage.
To know you’re the sky, and still attempt to touch the earth.
To know you’re death, and yet marvel at the process of birth.
To know you’re inevitable, and yet keep a plan B.
To know you’re evil, and yet pretend to be divinity.
To know you’re divine, and to yet partake in blasphemy—
is the essence of being human,
and the secret to my humanity.
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