I thought I was a rare piece of art, but maybe I was just a palette of mesh colors.
I could have been a pearl, but I'm just raindrops.
I could have been a sky while I'm just dirt lying in the dark.
I wanted to be like glitter always making anything shine, while I remained being dust that ages things.
I wished to be midsummer spring while I became thunderstorm eves.
I prayed to be the dawn while I turned into nightfall.
And at the end, I turned into nothing, morphed into myself.
The world breathed in smell of May while my soul was still withering in dried leaves of October.
People decorated their homes with love while my hands stained with crimson tans of self-harm.
Her heart beats blood while my only bleeds.
They cry for a relieve while I to live.
They sleep for rest while I for peace.
They laugh and smile while I can only see it.
In a world of struggles I'm just a void of surrenders.
Maybe I burnt too brightly as at the end I never shone, but faded in the blackness of ash.