In the beginning, God made man
And man and woman made me
Being stripped of who I am
What has that made me?
You say I am a woman,
You say that I am a blank space
that is waiting to be painted
As if I was the universe, that holds their
jewels as sacred infinity
But just look at me
I need you to see me
These scars that lay upon my chest
These scars that were founded upon lust
These scars that expressed distrust from a lover
These scars that lay near my womb
That is one day supposed to be the home to wear my seeds
become a beautiful forest
As if I was trapped in the Angel of Darknesses arms, and being drained
of my light
His touch graced upon my spine
His gritty fingertips behold the frightened
rumbles through my canvas
painted over my blackness that stained within
painted over my elements that refuses to vanish
look at the masterpiece that you have created, dilate on your creation as mr. caretaker
You hurt me
But God, you made me right?
You made me into his muse at
anytime or anyplace?
You made me be beaten brutalized by his villainized hands?
I was trapped with no escape, as he creeped
from corner to corner
So what has God made me?
A mother to death
I gave birth to a corpse
And man and woman made death
Not produced out of love
But by animosity, agony, and abuse
I guess you’re my God right?
All along, I was your savior and you were my witness