What I wanted was to sing.
What I wanted was to speak.
But the words stuck in my throat, were
trapped by my teeth. The notes struck
jarring chords and spun a sour melody.
What I wished for was independence.
What I wished was that
starlight would run in my veins, luminescence
leaking through my paper skin, that I would shine
like the moon on a glittering winter night. And I would
touch the mirror in terror and wonder, not believing
my own reflection. But the thing about humanity
is that you are only permitted
to be human.
We cannot embody the stardust
that began our cells. Damned
to imperfection, how could we be satisfied?
Always, we chase
the unattainable, thirsting for the purity
of our beginnings. Always thirsting for the stars.