Still smooth and beautiful,
That's if you're looking at me from the other side of my life.
I've got stories to tell my lips are an open book.
Yes, I'm beautiful at heart and intent,
But don't come too close cos I could cut you so badly without prior intent.
I've been sharred, all I share is scars.
As much as I want to be perfect for you,
My cistern is already broken.
So, instead of you drinking from my streams waters of pleasure as it has been written,
All I Unwittenly bring is injury and soreness to your heart and lips.
Stay away from me for I'm truly ugly and of a loosed character.
Not like I ever wanted to be this way,
But the pressure to test-run relationships overwhelmed my sense of judgment.
In a bid to find my spec,
I got broken by several Men.
Now, I'm no one's spec
I mean who wants to stay in a home with a broken woman?
Is there any chance for Redemption?
I want to be whole again.
To be that Beauty, Weapon, and Blessing I was originally carved to be.
I'm ready to drop the identity of being termed "secondhand"
I'm better, I believe I could be.
Not a motivation cooked up in regret,
But a worthy flame rekindling my moral fervor for reality.
I learned there's still hope for me.
So to the cross, I'll run.
Someone said, "it's the Bureau de Change for Sins,"
Where my Sins can be exchanged for Peace
I've been driving for too long and it's led me nowhere.
I'm willing to let His Will be my Wheel.
I'm not that broken vessel you used to know
I'm a new thing, the real deal, a Whole Spec
I'm a Weapon, I'm Your Peace!
If any Man be in Christ, He Is a New Creature
Old things are passed away, Behold All things are New!
My story's changed, "ashes into beauty," is the title.
The pieces were traded for a Peace
An exchange, a name, a hope I had always yearned for.
A blissful mosaic framed out of my many shards.
Alas, Broken Births Beauty.
Truly, broken lines frame curves and edges
My story is told in a collage from Pieces to Peace.
From Hollow to Holy.
From Scars to Stars.
An orphan now reunited in the arms of her Father.
A prostitute now in the hands of a loving husband.
I'm not perfect.
The will to sin has not declined from the roots of my being.
One thing is sure, in my hands is a mop.
The lies, cheating, and all must come to full stop.
So my journey into perfection begins....
Broken pieces still make colorful mosaics.
Broken pieces still make great puzzles.
Mosaic and Puzzles still tell beautiful stories in gracefully-blended colors and shades. Painting a complete picture, however, broken.
This piece was inspired by the Japanese mastercraft of Kintsugi.
Penned by iMuse