A Letter to God

At 12 she was skin deep, she hated the clouds and their white glazes in the sky with seemingly false hope

She cut her thighs, her arms and her worth 

To tears, like Eve in 2007, she birthed lavender dreams and sexed out curiosities

Lesbianism became a satisfaction cuz with a man she felt no home and no father.

So……was she a prisoner?

Hating God felt powerful and she went down the rabbits hole with an angsty stomach

Only to learn that the soul had a far better price than dildos and glittery lips. And no one would be there at the end of the whole with shining armore.

Metaphysics. Art. Vision. Roamed around her as she circled in a downward spiral.

And there He stood, with paper and pen at the end with a purpose to hand me.

Eleven years later, I ask.

“What took You so long?”

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9 thoughts on “A Letter to God”

  1. The above piece of writing is actually very interesting, although, I’m curious, were answers to the trouble found simply in hobbies: writing, poetry reading and the like. Because as hopeful as it might appear for many, I’d imagine for many more they’d find a hopeless situation in the arts. In fact, “the arts” in the eyes of many is just that which was condemned in the above, meaning glossy lips and the sexed up misuse of people.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Haha, I’m sure anything profound in my first message was purely coincidental. 😉 Perhaps Hollywood wouldn’t understand because, at least insofar as many in the culture are concerned, there’s no immovable standard of beauty by which they’re able to measure their material, an outside referent whereby they’re to understand whether or not their product was suitable for human consumption.

        Liked by 1 person

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