Girl, you are no puppet.
You are not made to entertain.
You are imperfect and should love it—
That you are beautifully whole—
Despite the pain.

Not in batting eyes,
Lies the truth of what a woman is.
It’s in the red she bleeds
And in the dreams her wounded heart keeps—
Aching to be perfect, yet
Unknowing, brings life to earth.

She needs no angel hair or curves refined,
Nor tall, nor petite must she be.
She is the soul that breathes life,
Not the heart that seeks validation,
For she is heaven’s whispered gift,
A light that lifts, a spirit swift.