God. Is A Woman

Obligations of the misconception. Belittling the inner curves of her demonic possessions. Carvings from her past. The words from another are no better. Glossed eyes of the empty caption called your soul. What you see is the infinite term of “Plain jane” tight lipped pussy dripped past her sweet nectar. Look above the forbidden forest. You too will believe god is a woman. Blemishes past what is pretty for a “pigmentation.” Standing above height of others holding the adolescent of being the term fat bitch. Curve your ill-mannered tongue controlling your shattered lips curved into an upward smirk. Self-esteem is earned never given. Some are born to love while others find it. Excuse yourself from having the advantage of someone’s blood on your hands because you think they look abnormal. Never second guessing how they might feel about themselves in the middle of the moons rapture… I learn. Making her presence known keep note. Holding her head high. Respect her essence she deserves to be acknowledged along with the shape shifters who can afford a new ass as its going out of a new issue of couture. Capture her natural beauty, sizing the mannequin to its true size. Labels are beneath her and many behind the movement. They are never standard equations that you and society seem to solve. Pieces of the ancestry puzzle the was meant to be larger than life. A drop from the mother land planted into the roots of my knowledge. Being upraised by the abundance of each curve I was or wasn’t given. Sipping the wine that replenishes my melanin. A dozen quite the same I choose the abnormal. Raising my palm upon the cheek holding her features. Sleek features masking the pure beauty condemned by the mouth of the ones unloved. A new recognition is emerged. By the grasps of mentality. Beauty becomes a last resort to few. Absence of vibrations lacking luster in each fluidity. Laying her down to rest when she wrinkles of age time in no matter in the rebuttal. I have given my all to see the god is indeed a woman.