Only recently have I discovered

That I am made of stardust too,

Not just a haphazard concoction

Of leftover, dusty ingredients

Waiting to be selected on an abandoned shelf,

But a unique, good-hearted human being

Deserving and beloved as we all are

Instead of an anomaly on the outskirts

Looking in but never worthy of human experience.

Dear soul, I am not invisible

But I could not see my own reflection

I am not an unlovable being

But I could not love myself

I am not a waste of time or effort

But I could not invest in my wellbeing

It was never unworthiness

It was never a question of not enough

It was my own blindness to the good in me

Leaning too heavily on the external to validate

What I should have seen all along:

That I am made of stardust too.

Published by Quietest Poet

Writer, mother, counselor, flower gardener, recipe seeker, and Netflix lover.

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