They come in different shapes, shades and sizes—
Some may rather be called ‘plump’;
Some are flat chested;
Others are naturally endowed, their hips don’t lie;
Some are drop dead gorgeous,
They don’t just turn heads they break necks;
Still others are pretty while—
Some are quietly beautiful.
But pay no attention to what you see!
Looks can be deceiving,
For if you look beyond the surface, you’ll notice that they are NOT that different,
They have the same genes,
For They share DNA…With the Father of all fathers, the King of all Kings—they are God’s children;
Precious children, His Princesses—
Fashioned with love and created for His purpose;
But some don’t know it,
Or simply have forgotten who they are;
Because if you look closely,
behind the emotional mask,
You’ll notice a girl living aimlessly, running scared in circles with zero confidence
And. It. Breaks. My. Heart.
She doesn’t know who she is—
Or what she’s worth;
She knows all that is wrong with her,
But none of what’s right;
She’s pinned her identity on things and people,
Searching for ‘love’ and acceptance,
In places she has no business— in the arms of boys and men she is better off without;
Now her mind’s so messed up she can’t distinguish her thoughts from their lies;
She’s so far gone down the corridor of lies, empty promises and false hopes that she has her identity— Mashed up with theirs and doesn’t know who she is or what she is capable of;
She’s lost her vision, herself, and her purpose – there’s no time to dream;
Now she’s chasing life!
Sometimes she wishes she could turn back the hands of time;
But those moments are few and far between;
In the fast lane of life, you cannot
let your mind wander or you will get knocked over or others will overtake you;
And this has become her life’s game, her life plan…keeping up…with the Kardashians, fashion trends, latest gossip….
And she’s become so good at it that she’s lost her creativity, her sense of wonder and her self-esteem;
She’s now an aspiring carbon copy of Nicki Minaj, of Beyonce and the nameless
model in the magazine;
And I can’t help but wonder, does she know she’s loved?
Does she know she’s still God’s precious little girl?
And I hear the Father whisper—
I love you daughter!
I formed you with My Own Hands
You are Mine.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all the Daughters of the King!