who taught you to be small? who taught you that these cracks were flaws? taught you that your light couldn't shine through the fractures and scars? who told you to accept what you were given and did not want? told you that any love was better than searching for the one only meant for you? the one that has always been inside of yourself. do not listen to them. their mouths are full of turpentine and cyanide. they will strip all that gold from your feathered limbs and leave you unraveled- all pock-marked, pink-skinned and alabaster boned. you were not made to be grounded. you need the crisp air, a belly full of laughter, a heart carrying so much love you feel seams stretching. mostly, you need to realize that one by one the population has swelled to billions, but even still you were hand selected, all beauty and flaw, to never be replicated. you are the finest art to have ever been created.