Did you even know the same hands

that sculpted the sun sculpted my

heart?

They build things untouchable

so that they may never fall apart.

But they forget their creations in

the blink of an eye,

because the world has betrayed

them and left them blind

to the beauty of their own art.

Not to call my heart beautiful,

but isn’t it?

And isn’t yours?

Made out of clay, or

whatever scientists call it.

In the beginning, we were

always nothing—

until the sculptor sculpted

and made us into everything.