Jupiter counts the stars that she'll never get to touch,
She envies mercury because she's closest to the sun,
and pities young Pluto who is dying all alone.

She would've liked some rings, like the ones of Saturn,
And wouldn't mind to have, like Earth; Summer, Fall, Winter and Autumn.

She could've been a star, but she's not,
She could've been ice cold, but she's not,
She could've been a black hole and swallow Neptune from a small bite,
But she's stuck as a reel, a misfit
Not belonging. Neither ice nor fire.

Constantly changing, she's a version of hell,
She's still awakening, rising from where she fell.