I spent a long time hating myself.
Thinking that my hands were saws
and to touch anyone would be to **** them.
I thought that my eyes were darts,
drops of poison on the ends.
I aimed my eyes at my feet so I wouldn't **** anyone.
Anyone,
but myself.
I thought that I was like the sun,
I'd burn you if you got close.
I wasn't handsome,
not like everyone else.
I was just me,
a burning pound of flesh.

Lately,
I've realized that I am not flesh.
I am not a poison dart
or a ****** weapon.
I'm a celestial man.
I have stars growing in between my ribs
and crystals pouring from my eyes,
my hands bleed glitter.

I'm not the nothing I once thought,
I'm the everything I never knew.