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Frustrated
The one's refusing to see me,
See a broken woman who isn't good enough to make it.
JOB? Not that I get payed in money for.
CAR? Just died along with the old me.
HOUSE? Not mine.
This is all a part of the illusion of what makes us sucessful.
Illusion is a perspective.
Poor, Poor woman.
We must not associate, association=like minded.
We must save her.
I'm better than that,
you reasuringly tell yourselves.
What they don't see is beyond their reach,
A beautiful Goddess, with such a special treat.
Healing hands and dancing feet.
Heart of pure gold,
And treasures beneath.
I am this earth in human form,
Looking to papa to keep me warm,
Mother's unconditional love,
flowing endlessly through my being,
Entering the hearts of even the most unwilling to receive.
