Stronger than stars

PURELY beautiful things are starting to bore me. I’m not interested in their safe, soft, and shiny stories or images. Their daintiness. They all say the same things. “Touch me. See me. I know you want to be me.” Tell me the full story. Maybe I’m just nosy, but I like mottled things with a couple of captivating and beautiful edges.

I grew up as a light. Then was electrified. Shocking people. Exploding, catching fire.

Well, I am not a light. I am a constellation of stars. Every star used to be a scar. It’s a God thing. Failures, loss, stagnancy, self destruction, tragedy - I made them beautiful by becoming more FROM them.

They WERE my battles - They were also my guideposts. I am alive and honest. I am

shining. It’s not over. And so lucky - all of the chances I have been given.

I don’t want to be “beautiful.” I want to be what I am. Stronger than scars and stronger than stars.