deepundergroundpoetry.com
One Day- I Will Believe It
Why am I hurting myself when what I really mean to do is scream, sob and rant. When I push that piece of glass into my skin, I am just trying to express what it is I feel but do not feel I can express. I will no longer let you tell me what not to feel. I have been forcing myself to feel only what you deem acceptable- physical pain. But I feel emotions, too. I feel things that you cannot see because you have never stopped long enough to look past the ruse I have constructed. There is mental pain more severe than any physical.
I don't care about your judgements anymore. It is time i rip off my mask and show you who I am. I am going to scream. Sob. Rant. I will show you my heart, though tattered and stained, it has been redeemed and is being washed clean by the blood of my Savior. I will show you my beautiful heart. A heart that loves and cares and loves to care- even when it hurts to love and hurts to care.
Stop trying to clip my wings, don't tell me I care too much. I don't care too much. I care just enough because if I cared less, I would be lying about who I am. I would be lying if I denied the God given gifts of empathy and compassion. I would be denying myself, my life and my Lord. I love who I am, no matter where i have been. Stop telling me to not love myself. Don't tell me to alter my sometimes-too-severe words. Don't tell me to alter my sometimes-too-impulsive actions. Don't tell me to alter my sometimes-too-sloppy clothes. One day I will smooth out all the rough edges. I am a work in progress.
Don't you dare tell me to alter my body. I am not Barbie, modeled after a German doll, sold as a sex novelty. I am a women. I am a human. I am not an object that was created just to arouse a man. My purpose isn't providing pleasure, but finding pleasure in my purpose. My purpose isn't found under my shirt or tucked up inside between my thighs. Even so, I should be loved for both, physique and mind because this body: it is mine- and it is beautiful. It is soft and curved and perfect.
I am gorgeous and no matter how many more toxic media lies you try to shove down my throat, the only thing I will eat is the cake sitting on the counter. I won't eat carrots instead of chips. I won't eat celery instead of ice cream. I won't count calories or weigh myself each day. I might eat when I am bored, even if I'm not hungry. I might drink two 44 oz slurpies, in one sitting. I might watch tv for 5 hours and not once consider going running. And no, my thighs won't regret it. Because my thighs are mine and I won't regret it.
Don't tell me what to be. You are not the ones who created me. God made me up, drawing inspiration from fireflies and misty rain and night rainbows and the bright blue skies that thunderstorms leave behind. Don't tell me to be ashamed of my mistakes. My mistakes have been forgiven because i have repented, and continue to each day. I won't listen when you say my scars are mistakes. They're proof of how twisted the world can be. They tell a very raw and honest story. They paint a picture of society's corruption and distructon. I am fighter but im not a mind-melted soldier under your command. I am engaged in a greater battle; one of eternity.
I am like a flower, growing through a crack in the concrete, after a violent winter. But I am going to make it. I am going to bloom and stretch out my leaves. I will survive the elements. I won't be afraid of self expression. I won't hide my identity. I am a beloved child of our holy King. I will survive, and fill this world with beauty.
I am a gift. I am exquisite. I am beautiful. I am worth it.
One day- I will believe it.
I don't care about your judgements anymore. It is time i rip off my mask and show you who I am. I am going to scream. Sob. Rant. I will show you my heart, though tattered and stained, it has been redeemed and is being washed clean by the blood of my Savior. I will show you my beautiful heart. A heart that loves and cares and loves to care- even when it hurts to love and hurts to care.
Stop trying to clip my wings, don't tell me I care too much. I don't care too much. I care just enough because if I cared less, I would be lying about who I am. I would be lying if I denied the God given gifts of empathy and compassion. I would be denying myself, my life and my Lord. I love who I am, no matter where i have been. Stop telling me to not love myself. Don't tell me to alter my sometimes-too-severe words. Don't tell me to alter my sometimes-too-impulsive actions. Don't tell me to alter my sometimes-too-sloppy clothes. One day I will smooth out all the rough edges. I am a work in progress.
Don't you dare tell me to alter my body. I am not Barbie, modeled after a German doll, sold as a sex novelty. I am a women. I am a human. I am not an object that was created just to arouse a man. My purpose isn't providing pleasure, but finding pleasure in my purpose. My purpose isn't found under my shirt or tucked up inside between my thighs. Even so, I should be loved for both, physique and mind because this body: it is mine- and it is beautiful. It is soft and curved and perfect.
I am gorgeous and no matter how many more toxic media lies you try to shove down my throat, the only thing I will eat is the cake sitting on the counter. I won't eat carrots instead of chips. I won't eat celery instead of ice cream. I won't count calories or weigh myself each day. I might eat when I am bored, even if I'm not hungry. I might drink two 44 oz slurpies, in one sitting. I might watch tv for 5 hours and not once consider going running. And no, my thighs won't regret it. Because my thighs are mine and I won't regret it.
Don't tell me what to be. You are not the ones who created me. God made me up, drawing inspiration from fireflies and misty rain and night rainbows and the bright blue skies that thunderstorms leave behind. Don't tell me to be ashamed of my mistakes. My mistakes have been forgiven because i have repented, and continue to each day. I won't listen when you say my scars are mistakes. They're proof of how twisted the world can be. They tell a very raw and honest story. They paint a picture of society's corruption and distructon. I am fighter but im not a mind-melted soldier under your command. I am engaged in a greater battle; one of eternity.
I am like a flower, growing through a crack in the concrete, after a violent winter. But I am going to make it. I am going to bloom and stretch out my leaves. I will survive the elements. I won't be afraid of self expression. I won't hide my identity. I am a beloved child of our holy King. I will survive, and fill this world with beauty.
I am a gift. I am exquisite. I am beautiful. I am worth it.
One day- I will believe it.
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