There’s more to you than the rest of them. There’s more to your more-ness than there is to all of them.
You have galaxies in your veins dancing next to white blood cells. You are seventy-percent tsunami: you can overtake any ship that tries to harness you, and there will be a thousand Titanic for every iceberg you throw at them. You have fire and brimstone in your rage, an angel’s choir in your soft-smelling hair, and feet that can climb up the sides of mountains because the laws of physics do not apply to supernovas.
You have entire lives dashed across your face like freckles, and a calendar that hangs between your shoulders every time you spread your arms. Time is nothing to a god. You have always been, will always be, and can always do.
This is why you feel trapped.
They will tie you to your throne and demand you give them your heart like a Mayan sacrifice. They will plead, they will beg, they will throw themselves at your feet with a wail that pierces your ears. They will ask you for everything you have; and when you do not give up what is rightfully yours, they will shun you for being everything they want to be.
You are too much. You are everything they want to stamp out of you because they cannot find it within themselves. You are truth and you are beauty and you are poetry in every sense, in rhyme and rhythm and revulsion. You are not the skin you have damned or the hearts you have broken or the words you have lost to the parts of you that are all too human: rage and jealousy and bitter, stinging regret.
You have thrown yourself into the waves time and time again, begging to be drowned: but water cannot get lost at sea, and so you know this.
You know you are more than dirt and dust and debauchery, more than any name they throw at you. People fear what they cannot understand; and when was the last time a god walked in their presence? They will clamber to the craters your footsteps leave and will spill into them like floodwater, desperate to touch where you once walked…
One day you will reach into the sky and scatter the stars so that the constellations realign to tell your story. You will use the sun as a mirror and watch yourself burn and be reborn, a phoenix that rises from the ashes of the lies they told you to tame you. You will stop the universe a million times over before you are done with it and they will feel your life like an earthquake; and then you will move on to the next.
You are more than them. You are more than this. You are more than just yourself.