When the despair,
The broken shards of other people’s triumphs were too much.
When she cried because she had nothing to cry about.
When comfort would not come and her world found the place where the paint faded,
She did all she could do.
She scribbled heartbreak.
The deep cut of the only man she hated.
The violent tendencies of a woman destroyed by fake live and hands trying to mold stone like wet clay.
She revisited the deep pit where the only man she ever loved with the full extent of her passion had accidentally left her to cave in upon herself.
She dived into the abusive words of her sire.
Not good enough.
She squeezed them like lemon juice into her heart.
Open wounds burned and she wondered how she went on.
As stars shined she cursed their persistent light.
How hateful they seemed,
Proving her wrong.
A man can change the stars,
So could she.
And she would.
In the wee hours of the mourning,
She was to face the night.
The black hole in her stomach would not own her.
She would take on the world.
One heartache at a time.
I am not evil,
I am not worthless,
I am not wrong.
I am a goddess.