A Tale of Soul Sista

Hurt.

So these tears fall in buckets.

My shirt I've tucked it,

And my mascara has already created dark concrete cracks down my face,

So I'll just relax now.

I'm not made up of loud sounds, so my voice drifts off into the croud,

like blue-white clouds drifting to the south.

My words will forever be soul bound,

I walk on holy ground, but I always find myself slipping 

through heavens clouds, just to land on hell's pavement.

I have the soul of 50 women held in a glitter jar,

trapped insisde my soul represented chest,

So to survive I wear God as a protective vest.

Created inside of my mothers nest, I am...

the sister of all goddesses

a supporter of good men,

Making me fall in love with the mind and soul,

because this is what has made me whole.