This poem is about a lonely child struggling with their beauty, self-worth, and relationships with those around them with tons of celestial references.

I was a child of the moon
Cursed by wretched beauty only the evil
Could find.
A child blessed by the gods
And loved by all those with desire.
Beautiful was I to all those who knew
What a treat I was truly
Created to be.
A child born to malign and pain and blood.
Far too cold was I just as the
Moon
Who held beauty much sweeter–distilled and true. The moon whose
Beauty had left me behind with the rubble and the dirt as I
Scrambled to pick up anything of value to
Increase my true worth.
This beauty I was
Given.
This beauty I held was not
Beautiful at all.
I was an angel untrue.
Like Icarus chasing the sun, I
Chased after the moon– after the one whom
Left me behind.
My wings were uneven– bloody and torn.
The moon had no wings
But a halo hung
Around her head.
A beautiful thing such reminding us all of
Her pure worth.
My beauty.
My beauty is blood. My beauty is
Gone. 
Gone all to her whom
In all her glow
Had forgotten me and my dirt.
I was a child burned by the sun and
Forgotten by the moon.
Born from violence and evil and
Malign and
Grief.

Process

I remember writing this from whatever song I was listening to at the time as well as my ongoing interest in space. I hadn’t written poetry in a while and this was a pleasant break and surprise from what I usually write.