The divine
I craved the divine feminine.
Devouring my flesh with harsh words and rash moods
Convincing myself that I operate in the masculine, because I always feared I was just too rude
Even when the gentleness of my voice had always been an attribute of mine
I was steadfast in believing that I wasn’t caring enough like Mother Nature would be depicted in my mind
But I feel the emotions of the broken deeper than mine
My intensity is something I tend to think is really my resting state but everyone around me calls me a relaxing place
Reclusion was my coping mechanism, being closed was the safest place for me when realistically I was open enough for everyone to feel safe with me
Rage burns with fury coursing through my body when I feel I’ve been vexed and while I do have a short temper it’s usually after my endless patience
Even with my tough skin and resilient nature my soft teary face shows the depth of my softness
Constantly telling myself I don’t know what to do or that I don’t have the answer when I see prophesy in melody and peak into the future
Second guessing my intelligence and ability to speak with conviction when people come to me with ideas seemingly asking permission
And these are all things that made me think my personality was too big when being divinely feminine is being able to articulate your expression
And look at what I just did.
