Actual Rating: 0.5 stars.
This was a torturous read. Firstly, a massive trigger warning for the glorification of self-harm was NOT given. Seriously, what the hell, HarperCollins? I genuinely don't even understand the point of this book.
The poet uses the title verbatim at least 8 times, and sure, at first it was like a cool callback vibe, but it got boring and annoying quickly. Almost as if he was trying to sneak in the title because he didn't know what to write. In one "piece", he compares the love of his life to the sun, saying that "you don't need anything else to shine, unlike the moon." Literally 6 pages later he writes, "The moon reminds me of you". AT LEAST STICK TO THE SAME METAPHOR!
Another thing I noticed was that there were at least 2-3 poems in which he says, "People are made of stardust" and I can't help but wonder if he read Nikita Gill's poem about people being made out of stardust. The similarity is too close to my liking.
All the "pieces" in this book would do better as emo Tumblr posts in the 2010s, or better yet, tweets.
In conclusion, this collection is filled with weak metaphors and underdeveloped concepts. I feel like the poet could have combined many of the pieces to make medium-length poems instead of couplets or 4 line poems. It clearly feels like they went for quantity instead of quality, just like most insta poets.