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I hear a voice
I know it well
it tells me over and over
I am unworthy
I am unable to be loved
and when I look in the mirror
it tells me
I am ugly.
This voice is closer to me
than a friend
and been around me
since I was a little girl.
I hide my face
admit defeat
and walk with shame.
I hope no one else
can see these failings
I hope today my mask
of goodness stays in place.
When I am strong
I pick myself up
and tell the voice "no"
I am worthy
I am loved
and I will prove it.
So I do my best
on my own
to fight against it
but I fail.
I hear the voice
I know it well.
It mocks me for trying
it points out my scars
and my pain
it points out the wrongs
I commit
and how I will always keep failing.
Because of these
it tells me over and over
I am unworthy
I am unable to be loved
and when I look in the mirror
it tells me
I am ugly.
So I continue with my mask
of goodness
always adjusting it
so people see
what they want to see.
They see a smile
and that's what I want
because who loves a girl
who curls up in bed and cries
who loves a girl that is
falling apart
lonely,
and scared.
They see a smile
and that's what I want.
But I hear a voice
and I know it well
a voice that is quick to cut
a voice that is louder than all others
and a voice I would die to silence.
I hear it
bury my head in shame
admit defeat
and curl up in a dark spot.
There I sit
but there I hear a whisper
it is very soft
"my child", "my love"
"my beauty", "my creation."
"You must have me wrong"
I tell the whisper.
But it repeats
"my child", "my love"
"my beauty", "my creation."
I open my eyes
see nothing there
so I doubt its existence.
"My child","my love"
"I am here for you
in darkness to be your light,
to be your hope
when you feel hopeless,
and to be your strength
when you can't pick yourself up.
Remain in me
and I will remain in you."
When I cling to that whisper
the voice softens
when I concentrate on that whisper
the shame of my failings
go away
and when I take in that whisper
I feel blessed and loved.
But the voice is always there
always quick to cut
and some times louder
than a battle cry.
But so is the whisper
it remains too.
I have to listen harder
to hear it
but it is there
it calls to me over and over again.
"My child", "my love"
"my beauty", "my creation"
"I am here for you
I am here with you
and I love you."
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