I can't believe you've lived on earth for this long and no one ever told you there are billions of different galaxies so you don't need to keep searching for things that want nothing to do with you; you were made for the stars. 

I learned this years ago when I looked at the bruise on my arm and saw a little purpled Pluto 
after that, I drew rings around all my bruises and I told myself they were planets. 
I drew 13 moons around the bruise on my hip and played pretend I was part of Neptune,
I named all my scars after stars and connected the dots to form fake constellations all across my skin— 
I drew Pegasus on my collar bone, Orion all over my leg, and I knew the Milky Way ran down my spine with thousands of different opportunities that were just out of my reach, 
I spent time drawing these things- convincing myself my skin was important, 
convincing myself the pain was there for a reason- that Maybe, I could be, the map to the galaxies so you see 
when my dad raised his fist— I raised my ink pen 
he shouted worthless,
I whispered worthy and drew another planet on my skin. 

This semester I took planetary astronomy and my teacher taught me that the iron in our blood was formed in stars, billions of years ago, trillions of light years away 
that means the very essence of the galaxy is coursing through our veins 
and you are as beautiful as you are endless— the stars will teach you this because they shine on for light years after they cease to exist—
I can't believe that growing up no one ever told you that growing in your self is all about knowing where your roots are and every person on this planet can trace those vines back to the stars 
You know, every planet except this one was named after a god, so there must be something wrong with all of us. 
You see we were meant for rocket ships and soaring when we lose the gravity at our feet— and fingertips we were meant for hearts skipping beats and taking back roads back to Mars when you can't find a backbone in your home 
or a place to call your own. 
I wish I would've known that bruises are more than broken skin or trying to skip stones across an ocean too rough to even swim in; it's time to sink—this in because you've lived for too long without anybody telling you this and I'm telling you this because chances are we bruise the same 

so tattoo stardust to your skin 
and give yourself a new nickname: we'll call you World War III 
because you're one part human 
one part galaxy and 
one part still fighting for your sanity 

so believe me when I say that I will leave today- ride a rocket to the stars and find the one who hung them there 
I'll ask him what he thinks of creation 
he'll tell me every living star is an answer to a prayer and I'll tell him most people stopped praying a long time ago 
he'll say that's because they quit looking up for answers in the sky 
so break your neck in a way it'll always be bent towards the clouds and remind yourself they cry too, because even the earth has bad days 
but remember on your worst days that your praise comes from your space in the cosmos and you don't have to fight the gravity, 
alone.