Cold and wet and hungry

and this blanket isn't doing anying.

I try to hide and bury myself

but I don't feel any more safe.

 

A mask is what I wear

when I talk to those around me.

I want to belong to them

and feel like there's something about me

that is irrisistable.

 

But the mask is chipping

and chafs the skin underneath,

cold and clammy 

just like the blanket I hide under.

 

These people won't like the real me,

the real me I don't like.

There is no beauty in her.

Nothing that would make the world

love her more than anything.

 

But what can I do?

I want to them to like me . . .

But this mask hurts so much!

It’s scratching and clawing and ripping me apart!

 

I’m desparate!

I need help!

I can’t take it off!

I –

I –

 

I hear a voice,

As a warm touch caresses my cheek.

The mask falls off,

And I’m blinded.

 

I feel warm,

He’s hugging me,

And the blanket is crumbling at my feet.

I am safe and whole and new

In His arms.

 

He shows me a picture

Of who I really am:

Fearfully and wonderfully created

In His image.

 

I don’t need approval from others

I just need to let Him shine,

Shine through me

To be a light in the darkness.

 

And through Him,

I am warm and calm and happy,

No scars or pain

To take away life from me.

 

I face the world

In His image

Not afraid of what they say.

Not afraid to just be me

To just be free.