Topic: Grace (day 7)
I need you, God. I cannot do this myself. I love you.
I need you.
So tired but not quite there yet. Give me strength please. Help me through this. Send me an angel that can tell me everything is going to be okay. Send me a hug that is almost reassuring. Let me be loved for the right reasons. Help me be less selfish and a better person. Help me learn to love myself and the people around me.
Help me inspire others though song and music. Help me reach out through my art. Help me love. I pray for someone to hold me. Hold my face and look into my eyes. See my soul for all its innocence. See the glow I hide inside.
God, I long to be loved. I already am, this I know, but I am greedy. I long for a pair of hands to help wipe the tears from my eyes. I long for the pair of lips that caresses my cheeks. God, I long to be worthy.
God, I long to be worthy of love.
Please show me your compassion and your kindness. I cannot bear another lesson. Not right now. I cannot bear my own voice.
God, please let me be worthy.
By His Grace"Stand still." and I do. My body only moves as
his tongues commands. He defines me so. His word is law.
I, a mere sheep, follows his voice. They call him Master. He
yields moments with his hands, arresting parts of me. If I
listen well, he will make me immortal. Years after, they will
chant his name but it is the form of me they seek. He creates
timeless angels with the earth, not clay but wood.
"Beautiful" and I smile, just for seconds. An indiscretion
never to be made again. One day, I will be adored by thousands,
bought for millions. My body would be seen by the wealthiest
supreme and the richest poor. No one will see my porcelain face.
Many would hold my robust palm, full of grace, but none will
feel my tender caress. Brilliant! They would exclaim. The
details are exquisite. Unforgiving bastard.
"Stop wandering." My arm aches with the control he reigns. His
furrow speaks his displeasure. Was it for me or her? He is talented.
His chisel hammers repeatedly hard into me. His eyes have left
their lingering gaze on every indentation of my flesh. His mind has
played and replayed with every position of my thighs and my flaws
and my scars. His fingers has touched every inch of my brown skin.
I see him grow art with his wood. I smirk.
"They are going to love you." Show off. He blows the splinters
off my nails, intricately manicured. By His grace, I will soon hold
the power to make the fools drool and the politicians think. My feet
will wield their minds, entrancing them. Hypnosis will be the spell
they gladly come subdued. My breasts will entice their lips. My arse
will make them heave. My sex... Shhhhh. They are going to want me.
But they will love him.
They will not know me. She will be rejoiced as I roam back in
the shadows I came from. He has made an angel out from me.
He has made her perfect with every curve and every line. Her
presence, as large as her self, glows under the artificial lights.
He signs his name - six strokes that seals the digits in his
wallet. I pick up the change with my bare fingers.
"You are not worth the money".
