God’s daughter locks herself in the bathroom
With only one thing on her mind:
Cover up the imperfections
That she never knew were imperfections,
Until the magazines told her they were imperfections.
She straightens away the curls,
Covers the scars and the marks
As if her history had never happened.
Her drawers and bags are overflowing
With boxes that declare they are the solution.
They claim to make her beautiful,
But neglect the truth:
That she woke up beautiful.
God looks down and wonders,
Why we ever told His daughter
That her worth was dependent on paint
And cover ups of who she truly is.
He cries out, “Oh, daughter,
Don’t you understand that those marks
Are my masterpiece?
Those scars that you hide,
Represent the blueprint to your soul.
I dipped you from head to toe into a sea of beauty.
These boxes only wash away the perfection
I worked so hard to create.
Don’t listen to the devil.
His scratching’s can be found all around--
But I promise you this one thing,
All that I create is beautiful.
All that I build is perfect.
You, my beautiful creation.
You, my perfect masterpiece.”
But God’s words aren’t as loud
As the screams of the devil.
So, God’s daughter, continues to paint over
What the devil has convinced her are mistakes.
All she wants is to be loved,
All she wants is to be worthy,
All she wants is to be beautiful.
So she does what the world tells her
Will grant her those things.
God desperately cries out,
“You are already loved,
You are beyond worthy,
You are more than beautiful…
You are perfect.”
But she keeps brushing,
And the devil keeps smiling.