Some nights you feel

like there's a thousand galaxies exploding

in every inch of you

and you are burning too bright to ever be looked at directly,

and some night you feel impossible small,

like your whole body could slip through the spaces between atoms

and never reappear in this world again,

and some might you feel like a paper doll,

carefully crafted and easily blown away,


too delicate to ever be touched,

and some nights you will feel like each cell

in your body is made of the strength that holds

the whole planet together, and that is okay,

because you are made of stardust and minuscule atoms

and breakable bones and the building blocks

of everything in the universe,

and you are too alive to never feel anything more than human. 


- c.s

This poem is about: 
Our world



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