I've always admired the moon. Her soft glow and beauty. Everyone wanted to be her. To be loved so effortlessly. But now I feel a strange resentment. And it seems I cannot rest. I watch her and never feel content. A pang of jealousy, I confess. For she sits so dainty up in her cloud. And the light she shines isn't hers. She stole it from the sun and smiles so proud Made his light her signature. Yet here I am, burning myself just to be seen As a simple flicker in the sky. Barely acknowledged despite all these battles within. Because she cut my wings when I tried to fly. I gave my best! What did she even do? I did as I should without protest, She shines as a thief of the true. She was never real, but she was loved. Of stars and moons.