Daughter of the King

I walk through the palace a little shaky,

I look at the other beauties and question the dress I am wearing,

The color of eyes You gave me.

That color looks so lovely on her.

What would it be like to have what she has?

You whisper, You’re beautiful.  I made you on purpose.

I made you the way I wanted you to be.

I smile.  I walk a little straighter.

As I sit in worship, I look around and take note of all You’ve given others.

Why don’t I have that?

When will I have this?

Did You forget?

Are You mad at me?

You rest your hand on my hand.

You’re right where I want you to be.

Maybe I could do _____

Or maybe You’d have me do _____

I hear whispers behind me.

While I cannot make out the words, I know what they’re thinking…

I couldn’t do that.

I’d fail at that.

It’s silly for me to think You’d let me….

I look up to Your soft eyes, and don’t see the same ridicule behind them that bounces through my brain.

As I walk through the garden of Your mansion, I hear…

What right do you have here?

What makes it okay to ask for what you’re asking?

Who are you that you should have that?

I’m a daughter of the King,

I think.

I lay awake in a bed too big for my frame…

Too empty for my liking.

My heart aches for a running buddy,

someone to live life with.

I begin to open my mouth to ask You…

I hear the whispers again.

(Who is in here?!?)

My heart races.

Is my shape okay,

My voice

My personality?

Did You make a mistake when You made me?

Is my bed empty because You don’t like me as much as the others?

The slithery words echo what I already believe.

When I search for Your voice and can’t seem to hear it, the slither is right by my ear.

Whispering my biggest fears.

Haunting my thoughts about me. About You.

His words remind me of all my mistakes.

He tells me You are ashamed of me.

He resounds the sentiments through the words and voices of people I like.

Their words don’t slither, but they sting.

I’m a daughter of the King.

I’m a daughter of the King.

I think it first.  Then whimper.

Then I hear Your voice with mine in unison.

You’re mine.

You’re mine.

You’re mine.

I’m never not choosing you.

I’m never not warring for you.

I’m never sad I picked you.

I’m never disappointed I made you.

I’m always wanting you.

I crouched in the corner of my room,

With my hands over my ears, tucked into a ball.

My cheeks are stained with tears.

You scoop me up and hug me.

I can barely see You as the scary words dissipate out of my head.

You speak truth over me.

You remind me that our enemy won’t win forever.

You remind me that You’re always on my team.

You remind me that my room, my bed is never empty.

You’re always there.

When I cannot hear You.

When I cannot see You.

You’re always with me.

My King.