It is a well-known scientific fact that the moon has low self-esteem.
Also this is a very crappy poem but I'm putting it up anyway because of my moral obligation, and because your surprise big thing isn't ready yet.
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Every night
Earth looks up at me and says:
Look! How bright,
How beautiful.
How she shines in the darkness.
No! I want to shout.
I am not. I'm just a hunk of rock.
A dull, pitted, lifeless hunk of rock.
I cannot shine -
not one photon.
All this light is the Sun's. Not mine - I can only reflect
And I'm not very good
even at that.
He gives me enough to light a hundred thousand cities, a million worlds,
I give you back enough
to light maybe one pair of eyes,
If you're lucky.
Sometimes, even
I don't reflect at all
Inconstant, changing
A tiny scrap of borrowed light
In an infinitely black sky.
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