in its subtle form it years to speak
through a medium, a message
enclosed in doubt
it desires to break free
the chain holding back a weary tongue
water flowing red, a braid coming undone
no one comprehends the area of imperfection
nor the silent cry of wont of encouragement
does the burden of expectation not weight you down?
the standards formulated
by the choices made to challenge
by decisions created to
‘make me better’
a need to be accepted for my flaws
not to be esteemed so highly
not to be above yours
you think; to me this is a game
but my heartbeat is not a book
it is not movement in frames
where is my worth?
what am I expected to gain?
I bleed crimson
my blood too leaves a stain
to a number,
and for once listen
to me cry
but an end is there
a voice for me to stop,
to stop believing that I am defined by a letter.
I am not labelled by ink on parchment
but by the title I carry
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name; you are mine.”
Daughter of the Most High.