The cracks on my face

Tears running down her face curling her under lip, she looks at me and says: “it’s not right! if God intended us to be doormats we wouldn’t have felt every foot wiping dirt off their shoes on us.”

She was my testimony no matter what hell I crawled out from… No matter how many times I jumped off a cliff with my head down… With all my burned skin and my broken limps, I am valuable. still valuable.

You shouldn’t see the cracks in my face and thus try to purchase me after your judgment in what I should be worthy of …

1, I was never for sale. 2, I am priceless precious dear I am beautiful and the cracks you see don’t disable me. In fact, they are the fuel to my passion, the softness of my voice and the strength in my will…

I look at her and she is my testimony why I won’t give in and surrender to be a) a doormat, and b) a ducking…

The tears running down her face whisper:

You are not a doormat so don’t allow to be treated like one. You aren’t a ducking so stop running back every time he quack quack quacks

Her tears say to me “you better hold yourself tight and treat yourself right and… And hold no bitterness nor fear for Que sera sera what will be will be!

And the cracks on my face; they don’t make me less off, in fact, they make me extra priceless! but that’s a tale for another time.

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