Me

In the shadow of who I am
Lies the woman who breaks forth with insecurities
Writing hastily
Knowing creatively
I want you to do so admiringly,
To say that I’m popular.
Make me Mary, Melissa, Vanessa, or Abby
Make me someone else so that
I don’t have to be, me.
Passionate- loud.
Efficient- pride.
Leading- domineering.
All works you say for my benefit
But my mind makes up the assumed negative.
Because naturally, you couldn’t
Have good intentions.
Swollen with pride
Consumed with self-righteousness
And yet, the indwelling seed is...
Why. Am. I. Me.
Why can’t I make a good first impression?
Why can’t I be quiet and gentle?
I fight for feminism
Because I feel I must justify
The reasoning for my personality.
Small, arsy, cute, respectful...
Oh LORD I wish.
But you make me loud, leading and...
I can’t even finish.
Because when I think of what You made
I don’t see perfection.
I see boasting, and fear and failure.
And everyone thinks I’m so unaware
Of the snapping comment I just made.
But oh, I know. And I hate myself for it.
And I hate it even more that I lack the
Courage to humble myself and apologize.
So I sit here and cry
Because I feel and I know that who I am
Hurts others.
And I no longer want to be me.
But instead of dealing with the real issue
I just say I want to be you.
It’s not about you,
Can’t you see?
It’s about me and my insecurity.
But healing and redemption
Doesn’t come through forcing my body into a mold
Which was never meant to be
God. Work on me.
I know there is a woman in here somewhere whom You love,
And created intimately.
But she’s so covered by my own crap,
That I no longer know how to be.
My sin and shame have covered me,
I feel lost.
Please rescue me.
Pull away the pieces until my reflection reveals Your glory.
I’m sick of seeing me.