Her

Look at her
Isn’t she beautiful?
I can think, with more than my ten fingers, how many think the same
How her irises are like mirrors; you look into them
and you see how beautiful the world seems in her eyes
how they shine so brightly
The way her hair frames her face
warm and elegant like her embrace
comforting
The way her lips purse so delicately
her kiss, as lingering as the water that meets the shore
glistening from the words she speaks so brilliantly
The way her curves seem almost molded by master sculptors
soft but clear and defined
How her mind is a wooden chest
and all the thoughts in her head are treasures
that for years have been kept
from the light of the sun
deemed almost
invaluable

And I can think, with just as many, of people that don’t feel the same way
that care not for the glitter in her eyes or the curtains of her hair
that think her lips do not glisten, and her words aren’t interesting
that her curves aren’t as smooth, and her mind isn’t precious
and they say this to her out loud
almost proud
that I have to wonder if they really thought that what they said mattered?

Boy, I tell you, your hate won’t make her break
Her eyes won’t suddenly shatter, she won’t lose her wonder
Her embrace won’t lose its warmth
she is prepared for the coldness of your winter
she’s already lit the fireplace
And don’t think her kiss will not be as magnetic
despite your massive ego, you don’t have enough gravity
She will not stop speaking, she will not stop writing
her words won’t untangle themselves to be the silence you try to make of her
Her curves weren’t made for your hands to hold on to
her softness isn’t there for your insecurities to sink into
And have care how you see the treasure that she keeps
the gold won’t rust to dust no matter how deep you’ve buried them

Boy, I tell you, there is no glass case big enough for all the woman that she is
and no platform tall enough to trick her into your false words of praise
Do not make a trophy of her
Do not think you can cage her
and do not think you can change her
Look at her
She is so beautiful
but your frost has fogged your eyes
and so you fail to recognize
that she is more than that

Advertisements

Empty Faith

Wasted words and wasted prayers
preachers on their knees, but murderers in their sleep
Laying bodies down to rest, as if passing some divine test
Rejoicing in the blood sacrificed for the Lord
They would say “a great flood is coming to wash away the dirt”
while their hands pulled down the lever on the dam
standing on top of pillars, no one gave a damn who got hurt
Forgiveness, they say, is the way of the divine
but confession now involves a gun and a body thrown aside
But no matter, this is holy, because for their sins they must atone
we forget that virtue doesn’t rely on good intentions alone
Watch them now as they preach their cause, they give medals of honor based on how much bodies you’ve tossed
They claim to cleanse this land of sin, protect the people’s lives
no matter if we preach the will of the Father, through a bullet and a knife