Broken Goddess

That feeling of melting into a never ending abyss where all you see and hear and feel is the claws of time and despair pulling you down into what feels like a metal box made of the devils own hatred and desires.

The desires of souls who have been tortured and beaten.

The hatred of murdered children and beaten women.

Your beauty has faded to that of a dead and dried rose.

Something that very few can find the real beauty in and bring it to life as though it were never gone before. 

When your voice is an imitation of a dying opera singer desperately trying to regain her youth and sound but falls short and just drowns into a nothingness of mumbles and chatter.

The moment when your soul is so weighed down that not even the holy hand of god could bring you to sea level.

Nothing could bring you from this hole you have been dug and been digging.

You are shattered and broken and feeling as though you are as worthless as the man that you desired and craved told you were.

'I have better things to do then be with her." the words ringing in your mind, body, heart, and soul every night as you try to sleep.

Mentioning that he was the last one you ever lusted for.

Feeling his lips against yours and making your body crave his embrace and warmth.

Dreams leaving you with the imprint of his touch against your skin, against your lips.

Your tears burning down your face as though rivers of burning acid.

An acid that can only be cured from mending what you have done to yourself and allowed others to implore on to you.

Until the night you realize that you are beautiful.

You are gorgeous.You don't learn this from the multiple men trying to win you and lust after you.

You learn this from looking in the mirror and smiling and remember that someone has loved you.

Many people have loved you.

Loved your extra weight.

Loved your messy hair.

Loved your droopy eye lid.

Loved every little flaw about you mentally and physically.

Your first instinct is to seek out their comfort, to feed off of their love and acceptance.

When you realize that you don't need that.

You don't need to be loved by someone.

The fact you can look in your own eyes in the mirror and see all of your own pains and trials and flaws and hatred and loves and everything that makes you you and still love and face yourself and still be able to drag yourself out of bed means more than the fact that someone else sees you as a goddess.

Only you can feel your pain and see the utter beauty in it after you have crashed and broken your entire being.