She’s beautiful and bright just like those shooting stars you see at night. And you’ll wish upon her and write about her stories that would mark your destiny. She’s rare, one of a kind and you’d feel lucky you have even laid eyes upon her.
And then you’ll start wishing that you could be her, that you had her, that you could hold that shining light and store it in a glass jar away from everyone else so she could light up your world when its dark.
But you forget that she’s nothing like she seems.
She’s much bigger than she seems. You can’t mold her or hold her. She has come into existence for a higher purpose- to shine in the sky and not to rust on these grounds. And she’s so much more complicating when you try to get to know her.
She’s here for just a moment, a visit, a glimpse and then she’s gone. She burns everything in her way. She was born to burn, shine and fall, break down till she’s nothing but ashes.
She was meant to die for the wishes of others to come true.
She was meant to be just a fairy tale in a book.
She was meant to be an eternal lost memory.
She was meant to be a shooting star.
