Father

He chose God over me,
because I didn't,
and I couldn't be what he wanted me to be.

I have spent my whole life beating myself into a mould
I'll never fit;
forcing my own edges,
cutting off my limbs,
my natural instincts,
and my sins
for someone who cannot be what he asks of others anyway.

He couldn't be what I needed him to be either,
even though I think he owed it to me.

Empty apologies and promises of a new, changed, and better man.
He is saved!
A new life for him,
that I don't fit into anyway.

Who am I without those parts of me,
that I tore off and buried?
Those foul, rotting, shameful sins,
The sins I have been committing since I learned to run.
How could I?

I should know better now,
I should know how to rip those out of me as they grow,
from the 'stem,' the very first thought.
I should know how to be more than just an animal.

It's okay, I know I'm disgusting and vile,
he told me so,
when I was nine.

What foul thoughts and behaviours I had then,
selfish and greedy.

He saw them in my body too.
He could see through all of my efforts,
and pretty clothes,
 I knew it.

He taught me that beautiful, godly shame,
that you bet I still practice now.
I have to make him proud.

How can I even begin to repent for those
repulsive, wicked sins I've committed since I was a child?

Not for me or THE Father, but for my own.
And everyone else,
because I'm a beautiful, lovely, young girl,
And I belong to them, not myself.