they sculptured you,
"a replica of the sun,"
they said.

"the world is dark and brutal,
but she is so brave"

you draw art
and you drink on the days you wish
they never sculpted you in the first place.

you write love stories
and poetry
and you cry sometimes
and you call yourself weak

"nothing more than a failure,
I am just no good"



"she's something unique,
don't you think?"

19 years is too young to feel broken  

"oh how she smiles just like the sun,
and oh how she weeps just as the moon."


but a few years from now
you'll sit yourself outside,
you'll play the soft tunes in your ears
and you'll sing along a little

and you'll realize,
you'll realize

the sun is a courages thing
she hides at night,
but she flaunts herself so bright.

you really are

an exact replica of the sun