Just Me 19

To the girl who…

Cannot see past a stranger’s glance
Does not know she’s loved and blessed
Refuses to accept the facts
Hates the lies she tells herself
Dreams of romance and not of grace
Hopes for fame but barfs on stage
Uses men to cling to love
Runs away when truth calls her name
Hurts herself because everyone does
Laughs far, far less than she cries
Mocks faith yet fears her death
Claims to be a failing mother
Drowns in her self-loathing
Rejects compliments and praise
Carves beauty into her skin with ink
Slices off and colors all that’s natural
Assumes she’s righteous; knows she’s not
Blames God for man’s mistakes
Feels shamed for her life choices
Lies to keep her face intact
Screams more than she kisses
Stares at bruises in the mirror
Dying to live; afraid to live
Thinks she’s fat and growing bitter
Hugs a tree but not her mother
Drinks to dull the ache inside
Smokes to glaze her eyes from seeing
Hides in dreams to escape what’s real
Abuses those she says she loves
Hangs herself in private pain

You are beautiful: afraid of the love that calls your name, yes, but loved anyways. You are precious: broken into a thousand pieces, yes, but cherished anyways. You are the shivering child who God found in a ugly heap of regret and burden: filthy and repugnant and wide-eyed with fear, yes, but adopted anyways. You are wanted. You are loved, so much honestly, that God died for you. Even if He knew that only you – only YOU – would need him to forgive you, wipe away your tears, protect you and cherish your forever, he would have still died on that cross. He would have died even if you were the only person in the whole of history that would believe and trust him. Cannot you not see that the girl who you are is not nothing but worth everything?


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