Uneven and Inclined

I used to be the number Nine

(uneven orbit, and inclined).

But over time, so much had changed.

To redefine, left me estranged.

A core of rock, and crust of ice,

crevasses deep that cut and slice.

An atmosphere that comes and goes,

and fields of magnets no one knows.

My heart I bare for all to see,

throughout the system, cosmically.

But still, a planet I am not...

A lonely object you forgot.

Until the day a poet said,

with passion, vigor, as he bled;

A planet thou no longer art,

though orbit, Sol, and bare thy heart!

- Previously published in The Tiny Seed Literary Journal -