Little girl

  There is a little girl, who lives inside my soul. She is very beautiful, she is pure, she is very unlike to the women who stands in front of you. A broken and torn flesh who is walking among the living but not truly living. For you see, to much of her soul is gone for her to be truly alive. She breathes air, yet she does not feel the warmth of her air as it flows in and out of her lungs. All she feels now is the cold that this cruel world has brought to her. She is a flower that has fell and whitherd and died. The very flower you walk upon every day, being trampled over and over. She cannot see her beauty for many have stolen her heart and torn away from her the very vitrue God had bestowed upon her as a babe. 


 If she could only see what He still sees. The little child still deep within her, just waiting to break free. To dance, to laugh once more, to feel the beauty of the kind heart she still has. No matter what she has been through, God is still reaching out. He is ready to mend together the broken peices of her heart. To show her the rain at the end of this drought.