Always hanging

You're always their, shining so bright as if to show us all the glory of what it's like to be called broken.

You were shattered, ripped away from what you once were. Was it your home, or was it you?

When you look back, how do you see yourself?

When you look back do you remember the pain? Did it hurt? Was it the pain that you are excited for? That anticipation of knowing the hit, can be worse then the hit itself. And that's all it took.

One hit.

And off you went, to become something newer and brighter. You are so bright.

And those around you, do you see them? How their brightness shines despite the distance of time and space already telling you all about their life.

They still shine, but they're also gone. Will you ever be gone?

Gone through more then you could have prepared for, but with such resilience you still hang there, shining.

I like to think I'm you, but that feels selfish. You aren't anybody, but more importantly, you don't belong to anyone. But still here you are giving and giving and giving

And giving.

When you look around and see those lights from a distance you can't ever cross, do you feel the same way as I do when I see you? Do you also feel that overarching ache, that unending terror that maybe this isn't actually the dream. I bet you don't.

You don't, and I know you don't. Because someone who shines that brightly can't possibly be so scared. You're there for everyone, you connect us all to that one night, that one memory, that one scent that creeps off the pillow months after the last hit.

You're light is always there, even one something comes to try and block you, still you shine through with such unique and splendor beauty that I must shield my eyes for if I saw what you wanted to show me, I'm not sure I'd be able to see any beauty left afterwards.

Between the distance, the pain, the suffering, the confusion, the loss, the suffering, the joy, the tides, the life and very nature of our mysticism. It's you.

You.

Not me, never me, never could be, and I could never stand next to an example such as yourself. When others look up, they see you, and you connect them. Through the entangled threads of the stars and clouds, Luna, you connect them.

I hope …

No it's foolish to try and think. Comparing a memory to a fantasy is easier then saying I could ever shine, ever connect, ever hope. Ever help

No, but maybe in the end, when all else fails, we can connect and relate by what the title says.