Ephiphany

Numb to the weary woman and her pain. Numb to the inner child who sees the world is insane.

Oblivious to the wounds she carries around…to the screaming cries that come minus sound.

Dismissive of her desires to be the center of your universe, drown her slowly in your perverse.

Serve her in abundance with bittersweet memories, make sure later there will be no remedies.

Sanity and safety slowly slip away. Mold and shape her…she’s nothing more than clay.

Stab her in the back as she rests her head on your shoulder, knock her down like an out of control boulder.

Use her. Abuse her. Leave breadcrumbs on your path. Whatever, you do…she’ll clean the aftermath.

She’s come back once, she’ll come back now. She’s yours forever, she made the vow.

Days have passed…she’s still not returned, now begins the scorching burn.

Listen close, what’s that sound? Still, small and mighty, her voice has finally been found.



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Still She Blooms

A littlegirladolescentwoman are constantly intermingling within this 46 year old gracefully mature home.

Not just any little girl,  but one who forgot how her heart is supposed to smile.

Not just any adolescent but one who is still yearning to love herself.

Certainly not just any woman, but one who is fully coming into her own.

A late bloomer.

So what?

…still she blooms.

 

A season of pure learning, that’s what this is.  I am grateful for growth, although it sucks sometimes.  I am thankful that I don’t usually put on a mask and when I do, I have people that call me on it quick.  I am redeemed, the end.  I am redeemed.