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Description
The morning grows beady eyed,
the moon sulks but cried long ago.
Jealous of the sun's cascading shine,
he cries for attention, maybe justifiedly so.

Wishing for appreciation,
but neglected and deprecated,
blue inside but gray to all else,
but little does he know.

Of the little boy that dreams, on long nights,
to make his home up there.
On the true vantage point of beauty,
looking out into the darkness, on the frontier of new possabilities.