Flipping through magazines

Of places she could only see in her dreams

Of models with clear skin, Sun kissed

Of breeze filled silk skirts and how they swished

Envious of those who dwelled under the sun

For the number of times she came out in daylight was none

Nyx could never go oUt into daylight

Perhaps that's why she was named after the night

For the sun left blisters on her skin

All over from head to shin

She didn't find comfort in the night's darkness

And yearned for the sun with wistfulness

She didn't kNow that the grass wasn't greener on the other side

Like a nightingale wishing for a peacock's feathers or wings of a kite

Nyx who yearned for the wrong things

And that tragically clipped her wings

For she did not know that the night was kind

And it had become something she hated with her whole mind

She did not know that the night would understand

Instead the night had Become something she could not stand

And she got lost in her fleeting tangerine dreams

Of having suntanned skin and her face on a large screen

How lonely she was in the hoUrs of darkness

During those nights within her she felt daRkness

For her skin was heliophobic but she was nyctophobic

Her skin was nyctophilic but she was heliophilic

During those nights she would yearn for a sun instead of a moon

For the moon disappeared so ofteN but she didn't know that the sun disappeared too

And eventually she drowned in her own darkness, an abyss within her when she wished for things she didn't need...

-the story of a girl with xeroderma pigmentosum