The Unwanted Facade

Fair skin; like the whitest of silk.

So soft, so pure, you are afraid to touch for fear she will crack.

The color of her eyes capturing the beauty of a sea being tossed by a storm.

She is so wild, yet too fragile to be tamed.

Her garments are made of beauty and passion.

They seemed to swirl around her with ease;

Like the wind that weaves his arms through the trees.

She is perfectly curved.

Her figure speaks grace and hope;

Hope that she may find true love.

Is he the right one?

Or more of the right question,

Is she?

She is so sure,

So sure that he will love her forever and ever.

But her façade will eventually end,

The mask will soon fall to the ground

And her wounds shall finally bleed through the fine fabrics.

She will no longer be the person he wanted her to be.

She will be as me.

Her wails will fill the silent nights

“I never wanted this!” she’ll scream.

“I always just wanted to be me!”

Will be what she cries.

She hates the mask he has placed on her face.

It no longer protects her scars,

But instead  makes them to bleed.

The velvet inlay that covers her face that use to protect her scars and imperfections,

Now seemed to only remind her just how truly ugly her secret is.

She weeps, blood mixing with tears;

For she knows the real she,

Is truly ugly.

The lies and shame are too hard to bear.

She has tried before to reveal who she is.

Her trembling fingers have worked so hard to rip the beauty mask from her face.

A beautiful façade that will soon destroy her,

But he was always there to stop her.

His strong hand grabs hold of hers

Stopping her from unveiling the ugly truth.

“That is not the real you under there.” He would soothe.

“The person I see is much better.” He says to her.

Too ugly to be truly seen, the mask is set back in its supposedly perfect place.

Never to be taken away.

What’s underneath not to be seen,

As though it was not really there.

What was under, never existed.

It is the unwanted façade.

But as I had said before this act will soon come to an end.

When the mask finally slips away.

And so it has.

He now looks at her with disgust and regret.

She cries and pleads for him to except her,

To look beyond the scars and the blemished face.

For what seems like an eternity he just stared.

Not a word came out of his mouth.

Like a statue he didn’t move.

Then with a single tear that dripped down his face

He simply just shook his head.

She watched in horror as he bent down for the mask:

His beautiful fantasy,

A place where he’s the Hero and she’s the whore.

It is his perceived reality,

Nothing more.

With a tender touch that he use to save for her

He picked it up, brushed it off and held it close.

“He treats it as if it were real.”

“How could he, when the one that loves him is right here?”

But he doesn’t notice the love that calls.

He only notices his façade

As he walks away

Telling it that everything will be okay.

Now do not worry about the girl with eyes of the sea.

She has found true love.

“How do I know this?” well you see

The girl that I speak of… is me.

And with Yahweh and Yahshua’s forgiveness and love

I am free.

The Voice of Revenge

Blood boiling hot as lava,

Heart pounding louder than any drum,

I try to take a breath,

But my throat squeezes shut;

Not letting me.

I can feel tears slowly creep up to my eyes

Ready to expose how much words can hurt.

But I will not let them come;

No, I will swallow them down.

I will act as though I feel no pain,

And that it does not matter.

But it does.

Oh, it matters more than you can imagine.

And the more I try to push the pain down,

The harder and faster it comes back.

Burning like red hot flames,

It consumes everything in its path.

With this new flame comes the voice of Revenge.

Quiet at first, he whispers into my ear,

“Are you going to let them talk to you like that?

 You don’t have to put up with this.

Come on, fight back.”

His voice is comforting, inviting.

I want so much to listen to him, and I do.

Every word he says.

Every picture he draws.

How great it would be to see their hurt faces,

 To throw their words right back at them.

“Yes, yes, yes… that’s right!

Show them what it’s like to be hurt.”

His voice is getting louder with every thought of mine.

Until it is the only voice I hear.

The screams of Revenge.

“Draw your sword!

Plunge it right through them!

They deserve nothing better!”

Slowly I reach for my sword.

The handle is cool and familiar.

I have used it many times before.

I pull the sword out of its cradle with grace and expertise.

The chilling ring of it being unsheathed screams in my ear,

Making a shiver run down my spine.

I look at the object that’s now in my hands;

It’s smooth, sharp blade glistening in the sun.

“See how that weapon shines,

All you have to do is thrust it through them

And all the pain will be gone.

Just remember what it’s like all the other times you used it.

Remember how sweet it tasted to give them what they deserved.”

Yes, yes, you’re right.

It really did taste sweet.

My memories agreeing with all that Revenge is saying:

The power I felt when I saw their shocked faces…

“Yes…”

As I hit my mark…

“That’s right…”

Showing them that I wasn’t so fragile…

“Yes, yes…”

That I wasn’t so helpless…

“Go on…”

Showing them that I was not a shattering vase,

But a rock;

Cool and calm.

Not letting anything break me.

“Their faces, remember their faces!”

Oh I remember their faces; every detail.

Their eyes, when they cringed shut because of the pain.

The blood drained faces, horrified at what I had done.

 The look of hopelessness in their eyes,

As I quickly pulled the sword from them and let their bodies fall.

With these memories comes shame,

Shame that hits me harder than any wave can hit the rocky shores.

What have I done?

I look at the sword in my hands

Its razor-sharp edge just waiting to be used.

The blood of its last victim no longer apparent on its polished blade.

What was I about to do?

Still looking at the weapon of destruction in my trembling hands

I slowly let it slip to the ground.

“What are you doing?” screams Revenge.

“Pick up your sword!

Don’t let them get away with what they did!

Pick up the sword, you fool!”

His voice is no longer comforting and inviting but hard and cruel.

He is now showing me his true colors, and they are not pretty.

“How can you do this?

You weakling, pick it up and fight.

Listen to me.”

The taste of Revenge is no longer sweet on my tongue,

But bitter as it goes down my throat.

“I said listen to me!”

“I will not.”

The voice comes from deep within me;

Quiet, but confident.

“What did you say?” hisses Revenge.

 “I said ‘I will not’ listen to you.”

The words start to echo through my head.

Until they become like rays of light;

Exposing every hateful thought and destroying it.

“No!…”

With this bright light comes the voice of Forgiveness;

So full of love and truth, He speaks to me,

“Do not listen to the hurtful things people say.

They are in as much pain as you are in,

Maybe more.”

“No, no, no… That is not true.”

The high pitched cries of Revenge trying to get through,

Trying to be heard.

“How can they feel the pain you do?

There is no way they are in pain.

Well…” his snake-like laugh coming in nice and clear.

“Not yet.”

“Silence Revenge!” booms Forgiveness;

His voice calm but firm.

 “She has made her choice.

And it is not you.

So by the power vested in her I order you to leave…

Now!”

The sound of His voice shakes every ounce of my body,

Cools my hot temper,

Calms my thumping heart

And silences Revenge.

The battle is won.

I let out a large breath;

One I did not know I was holding.

I look down to see my sword lying on the ground,

The very sword that would have been my downfall.

Forgiveness speaks softly to me in an encouraging voice.

“My child, do you know what you need to do?”

“Yes”

“Then do it and become truly free.”

Tears spring to my eyes as I slowly bend down to pick up the sword

 And take it to them.

It looks exactly the same,

But somehow different:

Its purpose has changed.

It is no longer an object of destruction but of peace,

No longer a weapon but a gift.

As I get to them, I kneel down at their feet.

Tears now streaming down my cheeks,

I put the sword in their hands.

And with every ounce of my body

 I open my mouth to speak those words that are so hard to say.

“I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for any pain I have caused you.

Please, please forgive me?”

Without an answer I wipe the tears from my eyes and rise to leave,

Knowing that it is not what they say that matters,

But that I am walking on the right path;

The path of Forgiveness.